


Running Parallel

by Altiria



Series: Running Parallel [1]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Albus Dumbledore Bashing, Alternate Universe, Anything that can happen will happen, Bashing of numerous characters in alternate universes, But they're also perfectly canon in others, F/M, Female Harry Potter, Gen, Good Tom Riddle, Harry Potter Raises Himself, Its gonna get complicated, K guys, Slow Burn, Tagging as I go, Time Travel, this is alternate universe on top of alternate universe
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-05-11
Updated: 2020-11-19
Packaged: 2021-03-03 04:49:06
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 6
Words: 27,218
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24119047
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Altiria/pseuds/Altiria
Summary: In an attempt to create a new mode of magical travel, Heather accidentally ends up in an alternate reality years behind her own. With no way home except one she must develop herself. Heather attempts to get comfortable so she can avoid changing the future. Or would, if the goblins didn’t decide to dump her heavily abused counterpart on her. Then inform her that the man she trusts with her entire life was actively destroying her new charges life.“So apparently Professor Dumbledore is evil now… that’s… fine.”Or in which Heather becomes a world-traveling savior to countless lives - because she has motion sickness.
Relationships: Harry Potter/Tom Riddle
Series: Running Parallel [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1740289
Comments: 80
Kudos: 935
Collections: Harry in the Past, More accurately general HP fics but..., Stories That Deserve More, Time Travel and World Travel





	1. World 002

There was a steady beat in her ears as Heather swung around her basement. She could feel the tempo straight through her shoes as she swung around the room. Lost to the ear-splitting volume Heather belted out the words to the song playing on the Mage-dio, she turned on her heels swinging her ponytail in a long arc. Then Heather snatched the beer bottle from the nearby table and took a long swig before bouncing in the place as the beat changed. 

“Yes!” she cheered as her favorite part hit. 

Thankful for silencing charms in the Muggle neigh boor - which without the police most certainly would have arrived with noise complaints - Heather flicked her free hand at her Mage-dio turning to volume up louder yet as she sang in her loudest and tone-deaf voice. 

Heather only calmed as the song changed. Slowing her dancing she snatched her journal from the nearby table. Still bobbing somewhat to the new song, she triple-checked her notes and took another drink of her beer from the side of her mouth so that her eyes never left her papers. Carefully Heather studied her notes for perhaps the hundredth time that hour all to make sure she hadn’t made any maths or runes mistakes. As far as Heather could tell, she hadn’t. 

The spell should work perfectly, and it was about damned time too. After all, there was a reason Heather was currently listening to the Mage-dio so loud, and it was only partly due to the excellent song choice. The larger reason was that because of the volume, Heather could ignore the chiming of her floo. Her family, attempting to contact her, meant the best… but Heather wasn’t in the mood for their sympathies or kind words. Besides, it wasn’t like it was a big deal! Sure, she was creating a brand new method of travel from scratch to avoid the problem, but it still wasn’t a big deal. 

It wasn’t. Sure, Heather had thrown up on the Magical Prime Minister for Canada, sure her latest blind date hadn’t known her by her ‘savior’ or ‘girl-who-lived’ titles and instead by the obnoxious live photo of her throwing up. Sure she couldn’t use the floor or apparate with becoming brutally sick. It was fine. And wouldn’t be a problem once her portal was complete. 

Heather’s expression still crossed into sarcasm as she put her bottle down and she spoke to herself: “if Ginny didn’t want me at every one of her stupid games then I wouldn’t exactly need to use anything but a broom now would I!” which, of course, was nonsense and she knew it. Heather couldn’t function in the world she did without traveling. Even without Ginny’s quidditch matches Heather still had to work, shop, visit Teddy and do all manner of other things that required apparition or the floo. And flying to all these places by broom just wasn’t logical, it took too long… she’d tried. 

Well! It was still fine because she’d finished her prep and Heather was ready to finally test her portal for real. If everything went well, no one - namely the twins and Luna - would yell at her for experimenting with magic without someone there as a backup. Which, Luna admittedly had a reason, considering her mother. 

Heather shook her head. It was fine. She set her journal to the side and marched to the runic circle she’d drawn in the middle of the room. This was the complicated base of the spell. In the future, Heather would alter and shorten the rune work so she could simply draw the portal in the air. In the future, it would run like a circle cut through space, jumping her from one place to another with a single firm step. Now though, the runes were painstakingly drawn onto the floor just waiting for her magic to power them up. 

Inhaling a fortifying breath, Heather took a dueler stance and brought up her wand in a steady grip. Carefully picturing the location she wanted, the Burrow, which was the most familiar to her outside her own home, Heather jabbed her wand forward and poured her magic forward. There were no words for this spell just as there was not for apparition. Instead, it was, like apparition, all about intent and plenty of runes like a portkey. 

As she focused, the runes in circle form began to glow a steady green. Heather briefly was surprised by that, it should have been blue for neutral magic but was instead glowing green for her own. Did that mean she was pushing too much magic into the runes? Should she stop? Fred would tell her to stop and revisit, but Heather was so very excited to finally find a new method of travel. The disappointment she’d feel if she messed up again and was forced back again, that was what kept her going. What drove the green brighter still. 

It was fine Heather told herself and wouldn’t… completely regret that choice.

Before her a black spawn appeared in the air, like images of a black hole drawn in her Muggle science books it formed. The wind picked up around her, sucked toward the portal, and making her ponytail flap in the wind. Likewise, Heather’s notes fluttered violently but thankfully remained on the table. 

Heather shoved more magic into the spell, finding it quite easy to perform the spell. It made her grin slightly because if it were this easy, then it could become a more commonly used spell. Of course, had she not been alone, someone might have reminded Heather that she was anything but ordinary. She was the mistress of Death, had power over the elder wand, and was the most powerful witch in an age. All this, she frequently forgot in her many attempts to claim she was just normal ‘Heather Potter.’ She’d be quite disappointed to learn that she was anything but ordinary. 

Steadily the portal before her expanded, and she found a small amount of effort necessary to grow the circle, to make it large enough for a human to fit. Finally, she managed panting slightly and stood back to admire her work. It was a dark oval swirling a breath from the ground; it was perfectly large enough for her to fit through, though a taller individual might have to duck. Heather approached the portal and gave it a critical look. And well, there was a reason she was Gryffindor as Heather literally risked a limb a moment later. 

She hurled her hand into the inky portal and waited to lose all feeling in the hand she’d chosen to potentially sacrifice. Nothing happened. The inside of the opening was chilled, like a cooling spell keeping her home cool during the summer. But beyond that, she felt nothing. Like she had her hand in open air.

Heather pulled her hand out unscathed, her math had been right, it worked. “Eat your heart out!” she said victoriously, and promptly stepped through the portal.

Immediately following, Heather realized she, quite effectively, fucked up. Firstly, because she’d done it in the first place. Secondly, because she’d left her notes behind. Thirdly, because the portal snapped closed behind her like a bear trap, preventing her from retreating or second-guessing. And fourthly, because she immediately tripped over a box that really should not have been there. While on the single positive, Heather didn’t feel sick from the journey… which was… good? 

Either way, Heather went down hard as she tripped. She squealed in surprise, arms pinwheeled, as she attempted to catch herself and failed. She hit wooden floors and cracked her chin against the ground, which made her eyes water painfully. “Ow, ow ow ow.” She whined, grabbing her chin with her free hand and groped with her other for purchase so she could return to her feet. As Heather reached forward, she met a wall much closer than expected, and Heather’s eyes snapped open to find herself in pitch-black darkness.

She jerked back slightly, realizing she had landed in a room far smaller than she’d left. Almost like a closest. So, she’d traveled but… where? 

“Episkey.” Heather cast at her chin, healing the minor wound from her fall before she wiggled her empty hand. A small light formed in her fingertips and floated overhead. It allowed her to get a better look at the storage room she’d been dumped in. 

Heather’s brows pinched as she glanced at the endless boxes and eerily family walls before she cast her eyes up and found a simple Muggle light hanging overhead If she were taller, she would have bumped into it when she stood, as it was, it floated a full head length over her. The Muggle-ness of it, however, had Heather hurriedly jumping for the light to turn it on before swiftly dispersing her magical light. It would do to have a Muggle walk in and see her with a floating light randomly in their storage room. Heather would have to attempt to obliviate them, which she wasn’t skilled at doing, that or she’d have to call Ron, which would be a disaster. Heather could only imagine the papers after that.

“Okay, this is fine… the spell worked, it just didn’t… bring me to the right place.” Heather rounded a few boxes as she tried to locate the door to get out. As she did, her mind whirled with possibilities, had she been distracted when picturing her location? Or was it a rune problem? Or was it something else? 

Heather found the door at the top of a set of oddly familiar stairs, and she quickly rushed up them. With a twist of her wrist, she opened the door and shot a spell behind her to turn off the Muggle light. She was attempting to leave little sign of her coming and going, attempting being the clear word there. Instead, Heather walked into an equally familiar hallway and came face to face with a Muggle woman in a towel, fresh out of the shower going by the steam coming off her skin. Heather felt herself blanch as the woman registered her and attempted slowly to raise her hands to show she meant no harm.

This would definitely end up being front-page news she could just tell.

In slow motion, Heather watched the woman pale, watched her pupils constrict in fear, watched her mouth opened, and then- scream. 

“Theif!!!”

“Oh, no, no!” Heather took an aborted step forward instinctively, trying to soothe, “no, no, it’s a mistake… I was… err…” lie, lie, think of a lie… her mind was blank. Bloody hell-

“GET OUT! Roger, call the police! ROGER!” 

The woman turned on the spot - towel amazingly staying in place - as she snatched up a vase from the nearest flat surface and twisted already flinging it toward Heather’s head. 

“Bugger.” Heather ducked the projectile thanks to her trained seeker reflexes, and it shattered behind her. Glass and water splashed across the ground. By the time the chaos of that settled, Heather was already retreating. “Sorry! I’m sorry! This is not my house, I thought-” she frowned at the walls as the woman actually gave chase while screaming. The pale blue walls were familiar as well, just like the stairs. They almost looked like-

““Theif! Vandal! Get out- ROGER!”

Yep, time to cut her losses. Heather bolted randomly, hoping she’d find a door and an escape from the hell house that was making her mind do all kinds of nonsense. She was beginning to feel like she was swimming in dejavu, everything about the building she’d ended up in pulled at her mind and screamed of familiarity. It took Heather some time and a few near misses from the women throwing things to finally place it. 

The layout was just like Heather’s home. The kitchen was in the same place, the basement, living room, and thankfully the front door. It was all in the same. 

“I’m leaving, okay!” Heather yelped at the woman as she finally got a grasp of where the front door was. Even as she retreated, her mind was working. The layout was the same, the walls were the wrong color, and the furniture wasn’t hers, but… but it looked exactly like most of the things the older man, who owned Heather’s home before her, owned. 

“Roger!” 

_“Roger Terrace, lovely to meet you Miss Potter, and this is-”_

And that name. Heather dove for the front door as she heard the pounding footsteps of what was likely a gun-toting Muggle man. It wasn’t likely just her uncle that owned a shotgun after all. And she hastened to get out the front door fleeing toward the street. 

Heather stopped dead on the sidewalk as the door closed behind her. Alarm bells rang in her brain, an alarm and a thought she didn’t quite want to think yet. Her instincts were screaming at her as Heather saw the house sitting across the one she’d just exited. Slowly, Heather turned back to the house behind her and compared it.

The cars were a bit older than they should be, all of them, the trees were shorter, and one house had been torn down several months previous when the aged man that lived there sold it. The house directly opposite of the one she’d exited was the very same that normally sat opposite Heather’s own home. The place beside that was the same one that always sat there. The tree - drastically shorter now - was the same one that sat in Heather’s yard. It was the same, yet there were stranger’s in the house Heather had landed in, and everything within had changed-

“No.” Heather realized, “not changed, reverted!” the thought settled in her chest like a stone. It sank into her stomach and made nausea build.

Now that she was thinking about it, the woman that kicked her like looked remarkably like a younger version of the woman she’d initially bought her home from. It was a different hair-style, but the face was the same down to the pointed chin. Heather had known the woman well after she’d spent months trying to convince the lady to sell her house to her. Heather had desperately wanted that one specifically after telling her Realtor she wanted a place and street with character. She refused to settle for a cookie-cutter. With a crooked path, aged walls, and a huge oak grown in the front yard, Heather fell in love instantly.

Over the past decade, Heather had decorated her home. Painting the bedrooms with Luna, doing wood-work with the twins, decorating with the Weasley’s, and the rest of her family. Every inch of her home had been touched by her loved ones. And while Heather desperately wanted to believe her spell had been successful and she had just moved through space as intended, the Gothic building before her was a touch damning.

The house across from her was familiar in it’s oddly goth nature - it was hard to forget when the owner reminded her quite firmly of the Addam’s family TV show. And even if she could ignore the gothic building, the house beside it was the blue number that always put out an explosion of holiday decorations. The two owners, an old Wicca woman who never came out during the summer and the intensely Christian family, always faced off during the holidays. Just as it was doing that moment, for one was covered in Christmas lights - yet it shouldn’t because it was the middle of August - and the other was plain, as much as a Goth building could be. 

And these houses battling it out as they always did, that much was familiar, and that was the problem. Because Heather’s home should have been across from them, and instead, she’d been kicked out of it by strangers. 

Heather shot a look behind her again, at the young little oak tree, the crooked path, the familiar crooked house that wasn’t quite as crooked as she remembered. Then her eyes clamped together, and she took a deep breath. 

There was only one way to be sure. Because as impossible as it seemed, ‘impossible’ wasn’t a thing in a world full of magic. Anything could be done without enough time, and any witch or wizard that said different was trying to limit you. Snape had told her that, passing the words her mother had once said to him. Of course, he’d been far more aggressive and harsh in tone, but the point remained. 

So Heather pulled up her big woman pants, lifted her wand, and firmly tapped her wrist. 

“Tempus.” She cast.

Up from her wrist floated the date and time, the full date and time, including unfortunately for her… the year. 

_‘December 3rd, 1985.’_

“Oh fuck.” Heather stared down at the damning letters and cast her face to the sky. “Luna is going to kill me.” 

The one and only rule with experimenting with new spells, to have someone around as backup. Luna, Fred, and George, and even Snape, had drilled that into her brain over years. The twins had done it when they taught her how to craft new spells when she’d helped them with the shop. The spoke endlessly about how if a fire started then the other twin was close enough to help especially if someone was knocked out. Snape had done it when she reached his Newt class and had spoken at length about how things went wrong. He’d showed them why it was important by having them attempt to control a purposely messed up potion alone. And then there was Luna, Luna’s who experimental mother Pandora had died to a simple problem because no one had realized she’d needed help. 

One rule and Heather had ignored it.

“Oh, man.” Heather reached up and palmed her face in guilt, regret, and a large touch of self-pity. Heather had been thrown two decades into the past, and no one even knew to help her because she’d been ignoring them. They would stop contacting her floo, assuming she wanted space, and it would be days before anyone thought to check on her as a result. Then there was the whole butterfly effect thing. One did not become friends with Hermione Granger without knowing the ‘dangers of time-travel,’ down the quote in the most obscure of books. One wrong step and Heather… Heather could end up forced to live in a completely different home, which she’d rather not do. Not to mention, there was the whole ‘Voldemort could win,’ thing to acknowledge. So yeah, no, Heather was not interested in long-distance time-travel to change the fates. Time was much too delicate to go around willy-nilly walking through. On the other side, Heather was currently and for the extended future, trapped in nineteen eighty-five. 

“What do I do?” Heather dropped her face into her palms. Look on the bright side, perhaps? She could be thankful that she’d not been experimenting in her pajama’s and at least had her wand with her- 

Behind her, the front door to her eventual home opened, and Heather gave a silent gasp. Quick as a whip, she turned and spotted a male head and a bloody shotgun poking out of the front door. 

She didn’t waste a second. Heather apparated on the spot and felt the squeeze of apparition and felt her boots land on concrete. As she landed in Diagon Alley, the first place her panicked mind that to bring her.

Heather landed and covered her mouth immediately. Her stomach heaved and twisted as if she were still stuck in the squeezing sensation of apparition. The familiar feeling of motion sickness, made a hundred times worse by magic, sent her stomach rolling, and it took all her concentration to control it. True it would be faster to just heave, the relief would be immediate, but Heather would rather not. 

Travel had always been a difficult point for her. It started early on, as she’d be told, with Sirius’ motorcycle. He had, when she’d been a baby, taken her on the bike to Lily’s intense horror. She’d been safe enough, wearing a magically altered helmet and had been strapped to his chest. But seconds in and she’d thrown up all over him and the bike, he hadn’t done it again, and Heather still didn’t know it that was because of her mother or the throwing up.

It hadn’t gotten better over her childhood either. Vernon and Petunia couldn’t take her in the car without a bucket, let alone a train. By the time she’d been eleven and Hagrid had taken her on a boat, train, and then bus in that unfortunate order, she knew it would be a life-long problem. And that wasn’t even mentioning the Hogwarts express, which was a full day of travel. Though, it had helped her meet Ron, who, after a brief introduction, had been kind enough to hold her hair until her stomach was empty.

The one method of travel Heather had no problems with, was anything alive or a broom. She’d been built to fly a broom, and the control in her own hands eased something inside her. Likewise - to Hagrid’s intense surprise - she could also fly upon Buckbeak without a problem. 

Floo, and apparition though… that was better off not being considered.

And as she well knew, just not traveling by anything but broom really wasn’t viable. Especially not during a war. So she’d sucked it up… even if it had been a near thing when she threw up on a death eater’s shoos during the war after she’d been forced to apparate and flee. But really forced the issue, and the creating of her time-travel spell; was the day she’d barfed on the Canadian Minister for magic after one of Ginny’s quidditch league games. The moving picturing of the incident during the after-party had been in the papers for months. Heather decided to create a new method of travel when her blind date remembered her not for being the girl-who-lived, or even the savior of the magical world, but… as the woman who threw up on the Minister.

It had gloriously backfired. 

“Miss are you alright?” 

“Mhm,” Heather pressed her head into the stone beside the apparition point in Diagon Alley and waved off her well-wisher. Feeling ill or not, Heather also knew that showing her face in any regard would be ridiculously stupid. Her past self may not be an adult or seen in the public for a few years, but her eyes and the now faded scar would still stick in people’s heads. Not to mention she was apparently the ‘picture’ of her grandmother Euphemia, and most people knew it thanks to those stupid books. Heather didn’t want to panic the public by having them think ‘Euphemia’ was back from the dead and walking around Diagon Alley. 

“If you’re sure…” the woman voice tinged in concern and a touch of confusion before she walked away. Heather glanced up to make sure she was gone and caught a glimpse of brown hair before the woman vanished around the corner. Watching her, Heather felt her stomach finally calm and was able to shove away from the wall. As she shifted, Heather tapped her wand to her head, casting a familiar and rather simple spell which wouldn’t be invented for at least, oh about thirteen years. So no one then would be able to counter it.

The spell acted much like Muggle makeup; it contoured, concealed, and emphasized in all the right places. Intent, and a clear mental image, was all that was required for the magic. So, Heather was still Heather, but she looked a great deal less than her grandmother with a simple word and a minimal amount of makeup. 

A secondary bit of magic, more powerful and still commonly used. Well, that was to muddy up her too bright green eyes. It added new colors to her irises, like a Muggle color contact. A final spell, invented by Fred during the Yule Ball as a Christmas gift for her, straightened the mess that was her curly hair. 

Feeling more secure with her appearance, Heather tucked her now pin-straight hair behind her ear and strode into the Alley. She did her best to appear as normal as possible and strode around as if it were a regular day for her, as if she was just a random witch going Christmas shopping. On the upside, the Alley was quite busy thanks to the season, and Heather was further disguised from prying eyes as a result.

As Heather wandered loosely to the quidditch store, her mind wandered as she desperately tried to think of a plan. Heather was only briefly distracted at the pitiful broom in the wonder. The newest in the year but a painful dud in the future she’d come from. She giggled slightly before sobering at her reflection in the glass. 

“Okay,” she patted her cheeks carefully. Heather had in possession knowledge of the future, her wand, a single pair of clothing that did not work for the season. It was bloody December after all, and she was in some slacks, a tank, and her trainers… no jacket. She also had no money, Muggle or magical, no home, no friends, no family-

“Ah ha ha ha.” The nervously panicked laugh escaped Heather’s mouth as she tried to brutally shove her panic back.

Okay, so… what did Heather need? First, money, then food and water, and shelter. Preferable a plane ticket so she was far away from the drama and not tempted to change things. Then, supplies to recreate her portal, the instructions for which had been left behind, so she’d need to write that down quickly while it was still fresh in her memory. Then she’d mess with the spell to hopefully send her forward to her proper time, lest she be forced to relive the next two decades… and end up two decades older than everyone she knew. 

“Not ideal,” Heather said, turning away from the display to move slowly along the Alley. 

So the easiest and straightest path to not panicking, and getting back to her own time, was to… get money. The easiest way to do that… was to take it from herself. 

Heather stepped away from the potions shop and glanced down the Alley toward Gringotts. The idea, now in her head, seemed like her best option. She’d pass Gringott’s test, aged up or not, she’d be able to access her vaults. And on the positive, her younger moronic self would not check the full accounts or even the trust fund records until she was seventeen. By then, she wouldn’t think to second guess ‘Heather Potter’ taking money out a few too early because she’d assumed she’d done it at some point. That, and if Heather took control of the full accounts now, then she could set herself up nicely for the future. 

For… good intention, and so forth. 

After all, in Heather’s own time, the accounts had been something of a disaster by the time she gained full control of them at her magical majority. This would only be saving herself, and Draco, who was her unfortunate tutor, some time. It was win-win… for her. And she rather thought that her past self wouldn’t mind. 

“Brilliant, I’ll do that.” The pressure in her stomach eased slightly as Heather strode toward the bank. She felt somewhat comforted with the plan in mind. But Heather still didn’t notice that the very same Quidditch store she’d bought her first broom from, was in the wrong spot. Nor did she see that the famous Flourish and Blotts was now named ‘Nobles and Barns.’ Or, that the owner of said store, was just putting out a brand new display for a book called ‘The Lives and Times, of the Boy-who-lived.’


	2. Gem-Stone

It was a steady beat under his rib bones, the dip, and the rise of ancient wards flexing at the numerous events happening within the bank every second. It was a feeling every Goblin knew intimately, and for many that worked within Gringott's walls, it was common as breathing. Many lost focus on the sensation within a few weeks. Kunzite was no different; he'd lived his entire life within Gringott's, had been born to her, had spent his childhood there, and, if all was right in the world, he'd die within her walls. 

The wards protected them, told them foe from friend. They identified, screened, and did so many other things that Kunzite couldn't possibly list them all. So, when the wards flexed for the millionth time that hour, Kunzite didn't think about it. Instead, he stared at his work, focused on the disaster that had become of his charge. He sat there, clueless to just how drastically his life had just changed. 

Kunzite Wyrnn was a Master of his profession, an account manager, and had trained to be the best. To earn his title. He was a Master as his father was before him, and his grandmother before that. Every Wyrnn since the first-named Wyrnn had, in fact, been a Master. The first of them had been a youthful young goblin high on battle, who stepped between two humans because she loved the thrill of it. A young female who saved the life of an equally young man; who, at the time, was nothing but a naive child venturing out into the world. A poor man then but who, years later and far wealthier, was asked which Goblin would care for his accounts. Hadrian Potter chose Karatt Wyrnn because she had saved his life, and he changed both their families. 

A thousand years of history later, Kunzite was the Goblin in charge of the ancestral Potter account because of that choice. He was one gemstone atop a mountain of Wyrnn's, and it was under his hands, that the line would die. It was his shaking claws that would destroy a thousand years of history. His and his fathers all because of one hateful old man. One murderous, traitorous-

Kunzite stormed to his feet and snatched his cup from the table before he hurled it at a wall. The stone cracking against the wall wasn't nearly as satisfying as he'd hoped. It didn't help his anger, but Kunzite knew nothing but pure revenge would. Revenge for his family, for his father and for that poor clueless kid-

"Sir?" 

He startled but showed none of it as he turned toward the door. Kunzite's expression was blank even as the steady flame of his anger built upward once more. There were only two reasons he was visited anymore, and Kunzite wasn't sure which he hated more. 

"He's back?" Kunzite guessed as his claws quaked at his sides. How he longed for a weapon, anything sharp to plunge into the bastards sagging aged neck. He'd be executed for it, his line ended, but it would be so worth it. No matter how much his mother cautioned him against it.

Katin, one of the few guards left that he could consider a friend, stood at his door. Her eyes were alight with pleasure, a mischievous smirk etched across her face half-hidden by her armor. Whatever she was to pass on, she considered it good news. Kunzite immediately assumed she had something to bring up about her brother Gilpin which Kunzite admittedly wouldn't mind. 

"No, it's not him." Her tone held promise, and she was going to tell him when she stilled, head tilting to the side as she heard something. Her smirk grew as she suddenly retreated without a word. Kunzite scowled at the door as it closed, he hadn't heard what she had though, and that was because, as a guard, her senses were far stronger than his own. She was bred for battle, he was not. 

"Katin," Kunzite snapped at the door, aware that she would hear him just fine without the silencing wards activated. It was likely her brother approaching, and the damned female was frequently trying to set them up. She seemed uncaring that he was nothing but an imitation gem with no prospects for the future. At best, his children would end up as tellers, forced to sit for days on end, attempting to reel in a Muggleborn account to manage. Never to enjoy the wealth his grandparents had alongside Charlus and Fleamont Potter. 

Kunzite grit his teeth feeling his mood drop further. He strode around his desk and dropped into his chair, carelessly. He no longer gave any care into proper posture or a clean desk, there was no point. Kunzite didn't even bother having his spilled drink cleaned up, it didn't matter it was. Gilpin wouldn't care, and if wasn't Gilpin, then Kunzite wouldn't care. As Katin said, it wasn't Dumbledore, so it was either her brother or a young teller ready to add insult to injury.

His office was one of prestige due to how old and powerful the Potter's were. He, unlike new managers, was set up close to the doors of Gringott's. Should the accounts have remained steady and the Potter family strong, then Kunzite would never have had another but a Potter enter his offices. It was a sign of power among goblins, an office close to the front doors, and a vault deep within the mines. Kunzite had both… had. Now because of his failures, a younger teller could take meetings in his office and affectively kick him out of them. It was a grave insult, and he couldn't even react to it.

Kunzite acted casual as a firm knock sounded at the doors and bit down a snarl when a young teller, did, in fact, enter the office. Escorted behind him was a young woman under odd charms. She was in clothing meant for the summer muggle in nature, and it made him think poor, and above all that he'd been correct, this young Goblin was coming to take Kunzite's office to do business with a Muggleborn. And to add insult to injury, the young Goblin was from the damned Hook clan. 

"What." He snapped as the woman lifted her eyes to meet his. There was a spell on them, but Gringott's wards worked, and Kunzite could see right past it. They were green, bright emeralds of color that swam with magic and power. They glowed in a way that screamed endless strength and a strength that could back it. But the shade, that particular shade of gemstone was familiar. And utterly impossible. 

The first time he'd seen those eyes was the day he'd been invited to his father's office. His father intended Kunzite to meet the young heir of what would become his accounts to manage. James Potter had been young, seventeen, and in mourning for his lost parents. The youngest in the Potter line, but miraculously alive when so many other accounts had already collapsed from the war. 

Kunzite had sat there looking at James Potter and his young mate, who'd supported and comforted with a simple touch. Lily's easy care had made Kunzite desire a mate that would one day support him in the same way. And when she'd looked into his eyes, she'd smiled, the first human to ever do so to him. 

This woman had the very same eyes but instead of mourning and kindness. Kunzite saw within her recognition and surprise. He didn't understand, not until the grudging Hook goblin introduced her and his mind… stopped. 

"Lady Heather Potter to see you, Master Wyrnn." 

_What?_

No-

What?!


	3. Chapter 3

Heather smiled at a terribly young Griphook who bowed with his exit, a nice enough goblin when you didn't understand the undercurrent of Goblin culture, and she did. Thresh, her own account manager, had explained the details she had missed and how insulting Griphook was when he offered her, at eleven, to escort her to her vaults himself. It should have been a Wyrnn, Thresh's son Kunzite in that case. Thresh explained the Hook clan dearly wanted an account as powerful of her own, while insulted in the same sentence that the pathetic clan could never have her. He'd cut the kids' throat before he allowed it. 

Heather had smiled politely to Thresh at the time because she'd not understood. But long exposure to the goblins and Thresh had gotten her more… used to them. Not overly so, but still. And being used to them meant she was rather confused when she was not introduced to Thresh after she'd requested to be. Instead, Thresh's office was filled with Kunzite, his heir. Heather was distantly aware there was only one reason Thresh would have allowed Kunzite to receive her or any Potter, and it did not speak to her managers' good health.

She stepped forward into the office despite Kunzite not offering her a seat or inviting her in. He seemed a bit… stumped, probably because she shouldn't truly exist. Heather, as a result, was forced to nudge forward their conversation herself. Though that did not stop her from taking it the mess that Kunzite had left his office in. Thresh would never, and she knew he'd taught Kunzite more respect than that.

"Forgive my forwardness, but where is Thresh?" Heather said that while Kunzite was internally attempting to reboot his thoughts and well, Heather speaking his late fathers' name, he certainly did it. 

"You know my father?" Kunzite sputtered like a child, and Heather hummed in good humor. She crossed the room and took the seat Kunzite still hadn't offered. Eventually, he'd catch up. Not to mention Heather was well aware that Thresh and his son both hated double talk and nonsense, just as she did. 

"I do, he's been my manager for many years… or will be, already is?" she frowned, "where is he?"

"Dead." 

Heather recoiled slightly in the chair. That couldn't be, Thresh never died, why was he dead?

"Now I must ask, you are you? You cannot be a Potter, there is but one left… I know there is one left." Kunzite had done extensive checks, Heather Potter couldn't exist, she couldn't. But if the wards said she was who she said she was… then it must be true, but how was that possible? 

Heather made a face but knew Kunzite wouldn't rat her out, it wasn't in his nature, and few goblins bothered with human politics beyond earning more money. "My name remains Heather Potter. Admittedly, I might have accidentally traveled into the past by magical means, and I'm a bit stranded until I can find a way to reverse the spell." Kunzite's mouth dropped open, but Heather pressed on, "so I'm hoping to get control of my accounts without my younger self knowing so I can get far away from here. I don't really want to change anything, lest I really mess up time…" She frowned, "was your father being dead a test? Kunzite that was cruel." 

"It's… not a test." He swallowed past the dryness in his throat. That made sense, she'd passed the wards which said she was who she claimed. She got into the office, she was a Potter. True, she was wrong about one crucial thing. But oh, the hope filling him, he could finally see a way out of his situation. "And I believe Lady Potter, you are mistaken about something."

Her brow arched, "what's that?" 

"You have not traveled in time… or not alone in time." 

"What… do you mean?" Heather asked hesitantly. 

"Lady Potter, if you had traveled in time alone, there would be a male sitting before me."

She sat back into her chair, feeling a surge of denial; he had to be lying. It was another test. Just one more test: "That's… a crueler joke Kunzite." 

He shook his head firmly mind already far, far ahead of this conversation. There was suddenly so much to do, and he needed her to catch up. "It's no joke, Lady Potter, I swear this upon my ancestral line. The only surviving Potter before you're arrival was and is male, and he is currently four years old." 

Heather released a high pitched noise: "an alternate universe, this is an alternate universe?!" she stood sharply from her chair, sent it skidding back before it tipped over. "How in Circe's name did I manage to slip into an alternate universe." She was panicked Kunzite noted, but figured it could be worse… probably. 

"Buggering bloody fuck!" she grabbed her face as her magic built in the room, "how do I reverse that!? I don't even know how I did it." 

"A great deal of time and effort?" Kunzite suggested lightly hand on his chin. He was already testing her magic with the wards in the room, felt at them, and compared them to what he knew from Lily and James. But oh, her power was an ocean in comparison to theirs. Her accidental harmless panicked magic was leagues above Dumbledores. She had to be the most powerful witch he'd ever encountered, or likely ever would.

Heather made a new noise of distress to his comment before exhaling forcefully in an attempt to calm down. This… really changed little. She was still stranded, and her plan would still work. It just meant her knowledge of the future was potentially useless. That she really needed to leave the country. Her plans hadn't changed, she could stick to it and still find a way home. So Heather reset her chair and dropped back into it, feigning grace, ready to speak her intentions to Kunzite. Who decided to throw another brutal wrench into her plan.

Noticing her calm, Kunzite went right into his questions. He'd give her no quarter, she was going to do what he needed even if he had to force her. But still, there was one question that mattered more to him than the others. "My father, he's alive in your reality?" Kunzite couldn't resist asking it, like the young Goblin he really was. Like the young Goblin who'd lost his father and would never see him again. 

Heather sighed, sensing the vulnerability in his tone, "he still lived when I left yes, successfully, and to a ripe old age… he refused to hand his title to you even though you always bug him about it. He liked to say you'd only get to be a manager when I finally found a mate of my own, which was to say never as you both knew." She wasn't bitter, definite wasn't bitter, "He was the one to tell me how Gringott's worked when I was eleven years old and helped me understand much of how to control my accounts when I turned seventeen." Heather frowned, "how did he die here?" 

She asked the question, but they both were wondering about it. How did her universe and Kunzite's differ? Why his father died when in her universe, he lived a long life.

Kunzite hissed thinking about it, his fingers flexing in anger at his desk, "This world is not so kind Lady Potter. My father died three years ago, he was killed when he made an enemy of wizards." He snarled the world fist slamming into his desk. 

"What?" Heather tilted her head to the side, she had trouble seeing that occurring. The people of her world refused to mess with the goblins, they were too afraid to start another goblin war. 

Kunzite turned and dropped into his chair angrily, "It was several events that resulted in my father's demise starting the moment Lord James and Lady Lily died."

"I don't understand." She admitted. It wasn't Voldemort that did it? What happened?

Kunzite waved a hand to the side of his office, and paperwork leaped into the air from a nearby drawer. The pile surged across the room and landed with a thick thud on the desk between them. With long clawed fingers, he aggressively flipped through them until he found what he wanted, then Kunzite brutally turned the papers so Holly could read, and jabbed his finger at the paper he offered. 

"Nineteen seventy-eight, the year your sire joined the order of the phoenix. With the funds available to him, Lord James arranged for a monthly stipend to be deposited into the war fund named 'Order of the Pheonix' to fight against the dark lord." He flipped the papers violently and stopped again with another point. "Nineteen eighty, Lord James gives blanket permission for Albus Dumbledore to access the Potter account when he and Lady Potter are forced into hiding. Albus Dumbledore makes several withdrawals within expected limits. Two months later, Lady and Lord Potter present their wills to my Grandfather shortly before their death."

The papers flipped violently again, and Kunzite sneered jabbing the collection. "Nineteen eighty-one, October thirty-first; James and Lily Potter die, and Albus Dumbledore arrives a ten minutes after their death. Ten. Minutes. He seals the wills. My father protests, he worried for the young heir, your counterpart who had neither gone to Sirius Black, his godfather, nor Alice Longbottom - his godmother. Nor did we discover was he brought to any named witch or wizard written within the wills."

"Wait, ten minutes later?" Heather asked, following Kunzite's records carefully. The time her parents, or rather Harry's parents, died in his reality were shown clearly. Magic recognized it and recorded it. She knew Gringott's likewise recorded such events to the second to keep the accounts controlled. But as Kunzite said, it was literally ten minutes after that, that Dumbledore arrived to take control of the accounts and seal the wills. 

"That doesn't make sense." Heather mused fingers following the records, "Sirius would have taken at least two hours to realize anything was wrong, and by then…" she frowned deeper, "how did Hagrid know to come to get me so soon?" she shook her head, a question for her own Hagrid when she went home. This was about this universe, not her own.

"He knew, we do not know how… but he knew." That was all Kunzite could tell her before he flipped the page on her to show her something new and far more damning. "Three months after the sealing of the wills, Albus Dumbledore arrives and removes five hundred thousand galleons from the main vault. Six times more than he'd originally been allotted." Heather's eyes went wide, and Kunzite flipped the pages and said: "and he has continued to take out vast amounts every month ever since."

The proof was there, vast and small amounts taken out monthly with Dumbledore's signature. Dumbledore had withdrawn money from the main vaults for four years, and the only deposits to replenish the funds were from her grandparents' investments. Her Great-uncles potion pattens, among others. Worse yet, going from the recent numbers, she and, by extension, her kid counterpart, barely had enough to survive off of. 

"My father protested violently." Kunzite continued once she'd grasped what he was telling her about this new world. "He spoke to your ministry about the will, He even communicated with Madam Longbottom and the others named in the wills for them to find and adopt Harry. Two days after that, he died. Coincidence? Doubtful." Kunzite pushed the paperwork aside, "Furthermore, my position as manager was heavily contested by Albus Dumbledore, who assumed full control of the vaults with Sirius Black's arrest. He pushed to replace my family with the Hook clan." 

Kunzite's smirk was all teeth and emotional hurt when he said: "He failed." 

Kunzite placed a hand to his lower chest. "I defeated that scum in legal combat and retained my position." And he had the scars to prove it, "However, Dumbledore continues to possess full permissions for the vault. He remains able to do anything with the vaults as he wishes, and I cannot stop him until young Harry Potter comes of age and removes these permissions."

He stared Heather down: "I could not do anything about this until you walked in Gringotts doors this afternoon."

Heather understood right away: "I'm from an alternate realm, but I'm still a Potter by blood. I'm legally able to take control of the family and the vaults today."

"You can remove him and reclaim what is legally yours." 

She sat back and stared at the roof of the familiar office. In a day, she'd managed to travel through space and time. Something that endlessly relieved in retrospect, because traveling forward in time was said to be impossible, but traveling back to her homeworld was far more doable. She could go home. But it would take time and research, which is why she wanted to access her vaults. 

Now suddenly, she was being yanked into a world where Dumbledore was stealing from her family. It went against everything she knew about the man. Dumbledore had been a grandfather to her, he'd spent hours training her after Voldemort was brought back. He'd always defended her and protected his students. He'd never abided the brief attempts at bullying during her second and fourth years. He'd always been there, he'd been the reason she survived, the reason she thrived. 

Hearing that, that amazing man was stealing from her young counterpart in this place. That he had probably arranged the death of a dear friend was- she couldn't believe it. Not of that man, not of the one she'd known. But… "This isn't the same world, and this isn't my Dumbledore." Heather breathed out, eyes closed. Her younger self was a boy, that was a considerable difference to her. And Heather wasn't afraid to admit that even minute changes in her own life could have changed anything. It was the butterfly effect like she'd said, but she hadn't expected to actually be witness to these changes so soon.

She always secretly thought that she and Voldemort had been similar, and it had been such a small thing like the introduction into their world that changed their fates. From Dumbledore's mistake to threaten Tom with fire vastly differing from Hagrid's warm welcome and cake. Heather well knew that she could have been Voldemort, after all, she'd stolen to survive, she'd threatened to protect her… and people had spoken of her as a kid like the matron had spoken of Tom Riddle. 

Surely… surely such changes could have pushed Dumbledore onto a darker path? One she didn't quite understand but… it could have happened. Anything was possible. 

Heather realized then that she should leave right then. To not interfere, to find another source of money. To leave this world alone and just go home. But her consciousness, even before she'd genuinely decided, could never allow it. She had to do something and… and she could feel comforted in the fact that nothing she did would affect her own world. Even if it put her directly at risk.

"What do you want me to do?" she asked in surrender.

Kunzite's grin was positively bloodthirsty, he could taste victory and vengeance in the air and suddenly understood why the Katin had been so pleased. "Claim your rings, push the man out, control what is by blood, yours."

Heather linked her fingers together leaning her elbows on the desk. She knew she could not allow continued theft, not without knowing the truth, nor could Heather forgive anyone taking advantage of her dead parents and a young child, let alone the fact that she was practically speaking about herself. But that was certainly a risk, one she was willing to accept. Besides, Heather knew it would take time to find her way home. 

So why shouldn't she change the whole world of a young boy here? Change the life of Harry James Potter and ensure he had a loving, welcoming home and family, instead of a cupboard and the spite of his aunt. Unless, of course, Petunia was affectionate here, for all Heather knew she could be. 

"Alright," Heather stated, "Let's see my ring."

And Kunzite smiled. 

Hours later, much longer than she intended to stay at Gringott's. Heather was signing an endless stack of paperwork. Kunzite, well, his bloodthirsty smirk looked like it was going nowhere soon. Heather meanwhile just felt… odd. She was excited, nervous, and torn herself. She still couldn't equate Dumbledore being a bad person in her head, no matter how much proof Kunzite was offering. It made her think she was better off avoiding the man entirely if she could, lest she ruin her view of her late Grandfather.

"Sign here," she scribbled her name, "and here, and here, and…" 

Heather sighed as she steadily drowned in paperwork, all to simply gain access to her family ring. Not that she wasn't used to this, she'd done it several times already in the past. Once, of course, to claim her Potter ring, then she'd done it again to gain the Black one which she had intended to pass to Teddy when he was of age. Now was just another time to finish the plethora of paperwork for the goblins. Though that wasn't to say she didn't read the paperwork, she wasn't an idiot, and Draco would probably walk through worlds just to smack her over the head if she didn't. 

Eventually, she was finished, and Heather picked up the familiar golden ring that warmed at her touch. It was the magic of her family welcoming her home, the magic of her grandparents, and her father, of her ancestors. Countless generations donating magic to this ring, to protect the family and it's Lady or Lord. It was amusing to Heather, considering she wore an identical ring already and wondered if that would change anything. 

Not bothering to waste much time, Heather slipped the ring on her right hand, middle finger - so she could flip off people who insulted her name or her lack of 'decorum' as a lady. Warmth surged testing her blood and magic, testing to see if she truly was a Potter. It passed thought her quickly, confirming silently that yes, Heather was properly a Potter, and was of age to claim the mature magic. The magic did require she be past her magical majority. For Heather, that had occurred after the Horcrux hunt ended. It had been an exciting stay in the hospital wing after the war was over, especially considering Heather should have hit her majority when she turned seventeen. 

The warmth faded in intensity now that she had passed, and that was when Heather realized the differences between worlds. Before the magic she possessed had been a comfort, it remained constant in the back of her mind, a hint of affection, like a hug around her magic. Before, however, Heather had been the only living Potter and the only one that magic needed to protect. But now Heather wasn't alone, now there existed a second Potter, her counterpart. 

The magic of the ring gave her a sense of warmth, but it was firmer with her. It was defensive instead of calm, determined, and ready to battle because there was a child needing protection. She found, after a moment of searching her magic, that she could sense her young self. His magic was connected to hers through the ring, like a small flash of lightning flickering in the dark. However, the more she sensed for him, the more concerned she grew; his magic was only the flicker; it was dangerously weak. 

Heather opened her eyes, staring at the ring on her hand.

"Shall we continue?" Kunzite asked, waiting for her to adjust to the magic. He'd learned accepting such magics could take varying lengths of times. He had been unfocused for hours after accepting his own family magic.

"…Yeah." Heather shook herself off and pulled her attention away from the weak magic. She did make a mental note to look into her counter-parts situation as soon as she was able to. She was beginning to grow concerned that the Dursley's were not good people as she hoped. Her family magic was already urging her to act, that did not paint a kind picture of the boy's life. 

Regardless, Kunzite pushed on asking her pointed leading questions that led to more paperwork and various specified orders.

"When was Dumbledore's last visit?" she mused, playing with the quill in her hands.

"Four days previous, typically he will not arrive within the December month, Gringotts is… busy during those times, and he is easily recognized." Which worked out great for her, Heather mused.

"Remove Dumbledore's permissions but attempt to stall him if he does come calling, I want some time to adjust and…" Heather hesitated, thinking about her counterpart and her own history. She would have given anything in her childhood to be taken in by a family member, even if that family member was an older version of herself, which was not something she'd have imagined possible. But, this wasn't really herself… well, it was, but it was also a different version, and Harry might have a different better life than Heather had. 

She had no right to up and take him from his home, especially if he actually wanted to stay with the Dursley's. And… and Heather didn't genuinely intend to stay. She shouldn't take him, give him that family, and then just take it away from him when she leaves. That would be cruel. 

Still… Heather could check on the kid at the very least. Judge for herself and come up with a plan going off what she saw in Petunia and Vernon Dursley. And if her aunt and uncle were abusing Harry, well legally, Heather could just take him. As Lady Potter, no one in the magical world would question her if she claimed her heir, especially from a Muggle family. While on the Muggle side, Heather also didn't believe she'd run into an issue, her own aunt hadn't put her in the Muggle system until she turned five and Petunia realized it would look terrible if Heather didn't go to kindergarten. 

"Gladly, Lady Potter." Kunzite started to write a note to find the paperwork for her promptly. Internally, however, he was quite pleased, Heather might not remain in this world, but she would at the very at least ensure the heir living in this world was educated and protected. The Potter line would continue, and that was all Kunzite cared for - on top of his revenge, of course. 

"What will it take to unseal the wills of my…" she trailed off, not wanting to say parents considering her age in this world. 

"Cousin and his wife." Kunzite stated firmly to her surprise, he'd already planned for that little snag.

"hmm?" 

He smirked slightly, "we at Gringott's care only that you are lady Potter, and many will only care that you wear the ring. However, others-" Dumbledore was implied "-require further proof. Thus I will ensure you have the proper back-story. You will be the daughter of the late Charlus Potter and Dorea Potter nee Black. They died shortly after your birth-" he gave her a shrewd look "-going off your age, resulting in your becoming an orphan and acceptance in Drumstag."

It would work she supposed, especially with the goblins quite elegant false ID's. Really all she needed was the ring since it would not accept anyone but a Potter by blood. But a back story was essential to keep in mind, especially considering who she was debating adopting. 

"To answer your question, unfortunately, a lot. We do not currently own a copy; it was removed after my father's death by Dumbledore while the ministry copy remains under the power of the Supreme Mugwump…"

"-who is Dumbledore." Heather ran a hand in her hair, tugging at the strands, "Alright, well, lets put that on the back-burner for now. I doubt it'll matter much in the short run, and in the long one, well, I have a few ideas about how to handle it's 'sudden' reveal." 

"Very well." 

The next hour was filled with more paperwork, which finally resulted in the fun stuff, according to her. "Alright," she held up a finger to each point she made. "I need a suitable and secure home for myself. I also desperately need to go shopping, considering I have only what I've got on my back right now." She had more points, but they had nothing to do with Kunzite's work in the end. Specifically, she had research to do about Sirius - she was trying to keep in mind that considering what Dumbledore was doing, Heather couldn't trust anything she knew from her old world. Sirius could very well be a death eater, even if she hated the idea of it. 

"There are several Potter properties," Kunzite told her flicking his hand and summoning more papers to his grip, she grimaced at it. 

"How well known are they?" 

"Very," he said with pressed lips, "Godric's Hollow, of course, remains a… public location, despite the fact that it is private property, and the wizards are trespassing." He snarled violently, and Heather made a note to shut that down… again. "Potter manor exists; however, it requires grievous repairs, the destruction from the war was never looked into. While the Nook, the home of Charlus and Dorea, is unusable, it remains steeped in black blood magic after the attack that lead to their deaths."

Heather hummed similar problems to her homeworld then. These were the reasons she bought her home, not to mention a firm desire not to live in such a large empty house. She had wanted something more like the Burrow, and it's homely feel. 

"I'll have to find an apartment." She'd likely look for something a bit out of the way. Her own home hadn't much in the way of magical protections because she lived in a muggle neighborhood. Which had been fine when it had been in a time of peace. But this world was heading straight toward a second war, and protections were required, especially considering who she was. She'd need all the wards she could get. "I'd also like to hire Goblin warders for the apartment I find, the best you can manage." Price was definitely going to become an issue here; she would have to look into her grandparents' investments quickly if she wanted to stay afloat financially. 

"Of course, I will find the best for you." He couldn't afford for her to die, he needed her.

"Now," Heather cracked her fingers and set down her quill. "I've been here eight hours, and I think it's time I slept." 

"At least one of us will," Kunzite grunted in good humor.

"I'll contact you when I locate a home." Heather stood cracking her spine as she went, "I'll be at the Leaky otherwise."

"I'll be in touch." He hadn't even looked up that time; his eyes were on the parchment before him. Heather hummed and moved the door giving no further comment, best not bother him while he was in the zone. Instead, she opened the door and waited a moment. It wouldn't do to try to find her way back herself, she'd wait for a guard, who appeared only moments later. 

She nodded without a word and started down the halls, Heather followed her escort mind a whirl. She patted the bag connected to her vault as she went. Despite finishing with the bank, Heather had dozens of errands she now had to complete. From finding a house to going shopping, checking on Harry, researching, and, quite importantly, beginning on the spell to return her home. 

Why was it she was always so busy? Oh right, because she couldn’t keep her out of other people’s problems.


	4. Chapter 4

Okay, what she was doing wasn't strictly… legal.

There was, as Heather had come to learn, subtle differences between the next millennia and nineteen eighty-five, especially in the Magical world. The first and largest difference was the way the magical world treated Muggles. Where she'd come from any spell use on a Muggle from a civilian was a short path to being arrested and placed in the more humane Azkaban. Two decades earlier, and she could walk right up to a woman, toss a compulsion at her, and have her 'decide' to move out right bloody then. However, to give Heather some credit, she hadn't asked a woman to move out of a comfortable place. She'd just convinced the girl owning the perfectly located apartment to… follow her dreams… she'd intended to move out anyway!

So the woman was packing, eagerly having decided to finally buy her dream home, and Heather would, in short order, be moving in. One simple spell had done that, and it was all kinds of illegal, twenty years from then. But honestly! It was a bit perfect and… and Heather had a lot of excuses saved up if anyone asked her why she'd done it. In the end, it was mostly due to the location.

She'd debated it a bit her first night in the Leaky, made a long list of pros and cons to most of the areas she knew of. Before she'd settled on the condo a few streets down from Grimmauld place. With her fore-knowledge, which may end up useless, Heather rather thought the location would be most helpful. Magical use of anyone underage in the area could be blamed on the Black family. While should Sirius use Grimmauld place for the Order, then he could escape the hell-hole to retreat to Heather's home. And should she not be involved or accepted into the Order, she'd at least know it was nearby after the fidelius was placed on it. That, and few would actually visit the location, unlike where the Burrow was centered. Also! It was far away from any of her Potter properties, which kept her away from Dumbledore. 

So yes, she had plenty of reasons for picking the condo where she had. Heather hadn't even mentioned the extra bedrooms, which would be altered into a potions lab and experiment area, and potentially Harry's bedroom. 

Merlin, Ron, and Percy would have fits seeing what she was up to. Hermione would too, but the girl kept a reporter in a jar for half a year so she couldn't throw stones. Besides, Heather only intended the best for the apartment. She'd pay her rent on time, and she would make sure the place looked better when she finally left. And it was better for the people around her too, silencing charms meant they'd never even hear her. 

So yes, it was a little illegal, but it was for the best.

And yes, she'd keep telling herself that. 

Regardless Heather had a week to wait for the woman to move out properly, so Heather filled that time with information gathering about her new world. She pulled newspapers from the last decade and made notes of differences, oddly though, the differences were not as… prominent as she'd hoped. There was no blaring sign that Dumbledore was anything but a gentle old man. Sirius had still been arrested and sent to Azkaban, she'd have to pull trial records because no trial was mentioned as in her own universe. The war still ended on the same day. The same exact order members seemed to have died. And quite likely, Harry had still gone to the Dursley's, but Heather would have to directly look into that. 

The biggest sign that anything was wrong came from Kunzite and the fact that Heather was not a girl in this universe. Meanwhile, the former was not public knowledge, which led her to believe there was a more considerable amount of changes in the under-current of this world. And as Heather read closer to the current date, she started to notice more discrepancies. Subtle things that she knew could change a lot in the future but that no one currently recognized. 

The first was that Bellatrix's attack on the Longbottom's did not result in Alice and Frank's insanity. Instead, Frank was killed, and Alice' maimed' but not drive mad. Heather knew from that that Neville would be different and considering he'd killed Nagini and led the school during her seventh year of Hogwart's… well, he was important, and she didn't know how that change would affect him. 

The second change she noticed was the Malfoy's. Lucius was not declared innocent of his actions under Voldemort's reign. He was arrested and sent to Azkaban, and from it seemed like, Narcissa was apparently penniless because Lucius had to pay out enormous fines to the families he'd been claimed to have hurt. That would drastically change Draco's upbringing as well, and Heather made a note of it. 

After those two points, Heather found the papers generally useless. They were otherwise filled with the same tripe she was used to, so she turned to a more active bit of information gathering. Heather was beginning to realize she was way out of her depth. She knew nothing, could trust nothing and had to fact check everything. So first, Heather intended to see exactly how her young counterpart was doing while she waited to move into her apartment… and fill it with temporarily transfigured furniture for the time being. Then she'd follow up with her holdings.

They were the same as her homeworld, there was a nature preserve for magical plants and creatures from her Great-aunt, potion pattens from her Grandfather, a full-on potion shop based out of France that her grandmother had owned. Then her father's broom investment, that was a wash unless she invented the Nimbus early and took over the market… which she could. Her great-uncle Charlus had been big into house-flipping, so there was nothing from him. While Lily had worked as an unspeakable for a few years, so nothing from her either. Still, what her grandparents had left behind would rebuild her fortune in short order as long as she could figure out why the shop wasn't sending her the correct amounts and why the reserve seemed to have been going under lately. 

"Bugger," Heather muttered, sitting at a magical restaurant. She racked a hand in her hair, which had returned to its curly state. She still looked like Euphemia, but no one would think 'girl-who-lived' off that because the girl who lived wasn't a thing. That was a nice change, admittedly. "Okay, what can you do now." She asked herself as she flipped pages from the chaos that was her planning. 

Snape always said she had horrible printing, and there was the proof. Heather was the only one that could understand her chicken scratch, and he'd always told her it would get her killed. He wasn't entirely accurate, even as Fred and George an entire world away tried everything to translate the notes Heather had left behind into actual English. 

"Point one, set up the condo." She wrote as she spoke to herself, "I need supplies and furniture." There was nothing like having your transfigured pizza box-bed change back into a box while you were still asleep on it. 

"So much do," Heather whined as she quickly wrote, it would be far faster to release the spells invented in the future under her own name. But then, she didn't want to end up in the news again. A false name could work? But her conscious didn't feel great about stealing inventions and spells from the people who'd make them. 

Who'd might not even make them in this world, her Slytherin self reminded her. Heather waved that part away.

"Then check on the counterpart." Heather didn't say Harry's name because she was in public, "not required for visiting home, but I want to do it anyway. Can create the next step after I know how he is." Her life would change quite a bit if she had a child, a four-year-old going off the year… a potentially heavily abused four-year-old. Heather made a face at that and pressed on. 

"Alright, I'll have Kunzite send me portkeys for the shop and reserve-" she made another face at having to deal with a long-distance portkey twice, "check on him, and buy furniture." As an afterthought, Heather added checking the Potter vaults for any books on alternate realities. One of her ancestors had been an inventor, so there was a large possibility of there being something to assist her spell.

Heather closed her journal and tossed some coins on the table to pay. They vanished instantly, a house-elf no doubt, which was another thing to add to her list. Dobby, Winky, Barty Crouch, and the blatant house-elf slavery that Hermione fought for years to disband. She heaved a sigh after writing that out and moved toward the Leaky Cauldron. 

Unfortunately for her sanity Privet Drive was not close to the Leaky. Her choice was a brief apparition or long knight bus ride. Which, put that way, the choice was easy enough. 

"Okay," Heather exhaled, stood on the apparition point, held her breath, and apparated. 

She landed in a familiar park a good mile from Privet Drive and immediately gagged. The world spun as it always did, but thankfully she kept her minimal lunch. After a good minute, Heather straightened and waved her wand at her clothes. She transfigured the outfit out of its time for a simply pants-suit and jacket which Petunia would approve of. 

Heather took a moment to reorder herself, then added a few spells to disguise the 'Potter' in her blood. That done, she headed toward Privet drive as a leisurely pace. Heather strode through the areas she had despised as a child. She tried to let her mind wander to her 'to do' list instead of the angst that was her childhood. Heather kept up the 'light' thoughts and walk as far as she could, all the way up until she was standing outside Number four's boundary, where she stopped.

Heather was magically sensitive; it came the highly diluted Naga blood in Euphemia Potter's line. The same thing that gave her parseltongue made her notice more clearly things like wards and unwanted eyes on her person. As a child, she'd always known there was something different about number four but hadn't, until she met Bill, realized she was sensing the protective wards. And they had been protective. Her mother's magic had pulsed around number four every day that she'd lived there, that magic had kept her and the Dursley's safe from those wanting to hurt her. 

But the wards around Number four in this world were not the same. Heather could feel them steps away, and they felt like tar. There was no love there, no kindness, it was malice and stank of something familiar that Heather was momentarily hard-pressed to place. Heather reached forward and brushed her fingers along the ward, feeling them automatically accept her because she was 'technically' still the same person as Harry. But oh, it felt nasty.

Heather pulled her fingers back with a cringe, and without much thought to what was around her, pulled her wand out. Bill had taught her plenty when she'd fallen in love with runes. She'd gained her mastery under his tutelage after the war ended, and one of the spells he'd taught her was used to finder greater detail and intent in wards. The magic was customarily used for things like curse-breaking, but it worked just as well for her at that moment. 

Running her wand along the ward, Heather muttered the spell under her breath and felt her magic sink into the spell. It tested, judged, and then pulled free spitting out knowledge like a printer would. Heather hissed as the then realized what it had been earlier familiar. 

"Dumbledore," she exhaled. This was Dumbledore's magic, but it was nothing like the magic she'd grown used to in her own world. This was twisted and blackened and damning. If she hadn't believed Kunzite before, she most certainly did now. Magic, personal magic was the best way to tell apart someones personality and intentions. From the protection, Lily left behind, to Heather's own magic poured into her portal. And Dumbledore's purpose in this reality was clear, he'd left nothing but hate in these wards. 

Following the main lines of the spell, Heather looked closer to see compulsions built into the ward. They targeted Harry but effected Petunia and Vernon, or any Muggle who visited number four. It was layered and dangerous in a way that made any Muggle needlessly harsh toward Harry and gave Heather a sick feeling in her chest. Anyone who fell for the wards, any Muggle, would be borderline cruel to Harry and after prolonged exposure…

Heather hissed out a breath and ended her spell. She stashed her wand and stepped through the wards meant to prevent anyone with magic access. Because of who she was that particular part of the magic didn’t affect her. Funny how a small technicality like that benefited her.

Stepping up to Number four's door, Heather reach up, and without a care, rapped firmly on the door. As she did, Heather shifted her weight, pretending she was one of Vernon's numerous wealthy visitors. She stuck her nose up slightly and waited mere moments for the door to open. But it didn’t. A suspicion building in her mind she knocked again and a third time. The third was what did it, the door slowly opened revealing nothing at Heather’s eye-line. So she glanced down, down, down, and found a tiny waif of a kid staring up at her. 

Harry was… the smallest child she'd ever seen. He was swimming in a shirt that was big enough to be a dress with a belt tied around his middle. The tight material showed how skinny he actually was, despite the bagging shirt hiding a lot of it. The kid, who should have been four, looked at best two. Which, she knew was possible. Teddy once had a friend that had been that small naturally, so it was possible, but that kid didn't make her feel so… sick to see. There was a difference between them, maybe it was the size of the shirt when that child's clothing had always fit. Or it might have been the way Harry shied back from her automatically. How he ducked his head or how has hands shook on the open door that he was trying to hide behind. That and… and this was supposed to be her counterpart and Heather… had she ever been that small? Probably but she couldn't imagine it. 

"Hullo." She greeted with forced ease, allowing her face to relax. She dipped so she was closer to his height and smiled with as much of her face as she could. All the while she felt the pressure of the wards on her and easily brushed them aside. She could resist Voldemort's Imperio, Dumbledore's ward wouldn't do anything to her. "I'm Heather, is your auntie home?" 

Harry shook his head firmly, fiercely, and shuffled on his feet. He understood her just fine, but he was completely mute, and Heather internally cataloged that. "Do you know when she'll be home?" Harry shuffled on the spot before shaking his head firmly. Heather smiled kindly at that, having doubted he'd actually know. In response, Harry backed up further into Number Four's halls. 

"Thank you." Heather offered casting another look at the nearby driveway, which was empty. Vernon was clearly not present, and Heather did hear anyone else in the house so she couldn't tell if Harry was alone or not. In her own childhood, Heather had not been, even if the Dursley's had gone out, they'd found someone to watch her, but then the hateful ward hadn't existed then either. 

Ideally, Heather wanted to gather information from Petunia, a quick legillimens on Petunia's Muggle mind would get her the information she needed. However, with the ward as it was, any magic Heather performed within it would alert Dumbledore. Which was obviously something she couldn't do. For both her and Harry's good, she could not be caught snooping yet.

The best chance was to catch Petunia when she wasn't home, like that very moment. But, leaving Harry alone in the house at four. It didn't sit right in her chest. She could try and take him, but anything forceful, and he'd shy from her, and it would be difficult to rebuild any lost trust. While just asking him to come with her, that edged the line of kidnapping a bit… too much. 

Heather hesitated a split second to wish she had an elf to watch over Harry from a distance, before settling on doing the next best thing. 

"Thank you, I'll come back later then." She stepped away from the door and watched Harry's tiny frame close it sealing him away from her. She felt his eyes on her from the window as she strode toward the street, ensuring she'd left the wards. The moment she was out, Heather cast a rather simple tripwire spell over Dumbledore’s. It would cause anyone who passed it to trip, but it would also immediately alert Heather to anyone passing through the wards. It would allow her to return to Harry just in case he needed help, apparition of not. 

That done, Heather palmed her wand and muttered a soft 'point-me.' Her wand spun on the spot before settling down the street. Destination set, Heather started down the road and felt the pull of guilt at leaving Harry with every step. 

* * *

Heather stopped in the park gazing at the children playing in the snow. Squealing voices and the sound of calm chattering parents filled the air as an older girl screamed when she was pelted full in the face with ice. Ice thrown by one Dudley Dursley. The boy, though drastically younger then Heather had last seen him was still unmistakable, and that was entirely due to his girth.

Spotting Dudley, Heather glanced at the chatting parents but found no sign of her long-necked aunt. Not until she found a single woman sitting at a distant picnic table. From a distance, and hidden by her winter clothes, Heather couldn't be sure it was Petunia. But she couldn't spot anyone else that matched her aunt from the other watching parents. Assuming she was correct, Heather didn't bother with another point-me in a public location. Heather just headed for the woman.

At a closer distance, Heather became sure that it was Petunia, but she didn't resemble the woman that technically raised Heather. This Petunia looked worn. Like the weight of the entire world had been shoved onto her shoulders. She had her face cradled in her hands, her posture bowed, and she was muttering weakly under her breath. However, nothing was more surprising than the fact that this Petunia didn't have an eagle eye on her pride and joy, her son. 

Heather decided on her next course of action rather quickly after that.

"Miss?" 

Petunia's head snapped up so quickly that it sounded like she'd given herself whiplash. Heather cringed, even as the woman locked eyes with Heather's with a defensive: "What?" on her lips. 

By then though, it was much too late for Petunia. With a whisper, and Heather gripping tight to her wand hidden inside her pocket, Heather dove deep into her aunt's mind. Truly Heather only needed a moment of eye-contact to make the connection and find what she wanted. There was no need to look farther than the first memory brimming guiltily at the surface of her aunt's mind.

It was a brutal thing as Heather stepped into Petunia's shoes to witness the recent event. As she stood in her aunt's place and felt a surge of rage build from the event. Harry was cooking- had been cooking, his fingers were wrapped tight around a much too heavy cast iron pan as he attempted to use his other hand to turn the bacon over. As it did, the fat spat at him, and Harry instinctively flinched back to protect his face. It caused him to drop the pan which shattered brutally against the floor and cracked a tile on the kitchen floor. 

Petunia watched it all, stood there as her mind waged war on itself. Heather felt Petunia's guilt, a brutal surge of anger as the woman surge forward. Heather watched Harry cringe back apologetic and terrified as Petunia scooped up the still red hot pan. She watched as Heather grabbed Harry's arm and dropped the pan right onto his skin as a cost-

Heather wrenched out of the memory when Harry started to scream. She couldn't watch anymore, not without being sick. But Petunia's emotions lingered, that rage was firmly present, but there was also a layer of horror that remained to this moment. Petunia regretted it, hadn't wanted to do it… but the ward had been twisting her mind and emotions. Heather knew it in that instant that she had to remove Harry from that environment for the good of everyone involved. Because Harry was being abused physically and mentally, tortured, and in a way, he was not the only one in the house to be suffering either. Because Petunia knew something was wrong, but she was a Muggle, and as a Muggle, she had no defenses against a power beyond her. Petunia had no idea why she was feeling the way she was, why she was so quick to anger with Harry and only Harry. 

Heather… she felt for the woman, for everyone in that house, in fact. And Heather was in a position to change it.

So change it, she would.

"So, we need to talk." She started with hoping against hope that Petunia wouldn't be too difficult to convince.


	5. Flowers

"So, we need to talk."

Heather almost face-planted into the ground due to sheer embarrassment after she'd said it. The words she'd used were basically a break-up starter, and she'd used them on her aunt, the idea was cringe-worthy. Unfortunately for her, Heather couldn't take them back and start over either, not unless she wanted to obliviate her aunt. Heather was actually willing to do that, but by the time she thought it, Petunia was already responding. 

Petunia's head snapped upward with an audible crack. Heather winced in sympathy, knowing the woman had been sitting in that position for hours, and the sudden motion had to have hurt. 

Then, her attention was on Petunia's face, and her world stilled slightly. Looking into her aunt's memories had given Heather a good grasp of Petunia's emotional state, thoughts, and memories. What legilimency, however, did not provide Heather with was her aunt's physical appearance. Something that Heather hadn't realized might be different. 

Petunia had bags the size of wells, her lips were chapped and bleeding from biting. Her skin was pale, but not from a lack of sun, but instead of emotional turmoil. All this Heather acknowledged. But truthfully, she got stuck on her aunt's eyes. Petunia Dursley's eyes were haunted. They spoke of in-depth knowledge, or at the very least, she highly suspected the truth. Beyond that, though, Petunia Dursley's eyes were the wrong color, and Heather found herself blatantly starring. 

In Heather's world, her aunt had eyes the color of mud. She had been the plain muggle sister to Lily Evans. The one who got the giraffe neck, the mousy hair, and their father's muddy eyes. Petunia was the plain sister, the one without magic. The background character to Lily's emerald and fire. To her magical, spectacular life. And while Heather knew other girls with such appearances that never let it affect their personalities, she also knew Petunia had been continuously looked down on. Her accomplishments had been ignored. Her attempts overlooked. Because Lily was magic. Lily was intelligent. Lily was beautiful. Lily, Lily, Lily-

This Petunia Dursley had a subtle difference. A slight change when compared to the Petunia from Heather's world. This Petunia Dursley had Lily's eyes, had Heather's grandmother's eyes, that familiar emerald that sat in Heather's own head. And apparently, that made a world of difference in the head of this woman. Because, although Heather didn't know it, Petunia had one thing people complimented her continuously for. Sure she had a giraffe neck, a terrible complexion, and her father's mousy hair. At least she had beautiful eyes.

Funny how such a subtle difference could change so much. 

Terrifying how such a subtle thing could change so much. Because, what else could change just because of a small shift in a DNA strand. 

Heather felt her skin crawl as countless possibilities laid out before her. She was suddenly far more frightened of the drastic changes she'd see in the people she loved and cared for. This was the first Heather had met - for Heather hadn't really known Kunzite all that well - and she didn't even care about her aunt that much. What if Hermione, Ron, Sirius, and all those she cherished were just as altered? In Merlin's name, Heather worried about those interactions. 

"What?" Petunia snapped out, finally responding to Heather's question. "Who are you?" 

Green eyes darted across Heather's form in inspection. Petunia sought out key things, items like a wand hidden under baggy clothing. Odd clothing that stood out because Wizards, as she'd learned, were stupid if powerful. Petunia looked for anything that could be magical on pure instinct. When she failed to locate anything on the strange woman, she assumed Heather was a parent and relaxed slightly. For a moment anyway. 

"I'm…" Heather hesitated for a moment. Just a single moment as she debated just how honest she intended to be here. Then she settled. "Heather Potter, and we really need to speak Petunia- oi!" Palming the wand in her pocket Heather swiftly cast a spell at Petunia's shoes. The woman, upon hearing Heather's name, had immediately attempted to bolt. She'd shoved right passed Heather only to stop dead as her feet caught and stuck fast to the ground. Arms pinwheeling Petunia shrieked- 

"HELP-"

"Muffliato!"

"SOMEBODY!" 

Heather cringed as Petunia's voice hit an almighty pitch. Pressing her ear to her shoulder in a terrible attempt to stem the noise, Heather cast a rushed notice-me-not spell to go with the muffling charm. No one would hear their conversation or come to inspect when people realized Petunia was blatantly and soundlessly flailing for her life. That done, Heather pressed her hands to her ears and waited for calm to return to her aunt. Years of experience told Heather she would have to wait it out. There would be no yelling over Petunia Dursley in any world.  
  
"LET ME GO! SOMEBODY!" Petunia struggled to get her feet off the ground and all around panicked. "You can't do this- there are laws! I'm protected!" 

Heather grimaced, "Aun- Miss Dursley! Please calm down!" she tried to get into her aunt's face so Petunia could see her intention, but all it served was to bring her close to the swinging arms. One nearly collided with Heather's face and forced her back, "I don't mean any harm!" 

"Help! PLEASE!" 

"PETUNIA!" Heather finally screamed over her panicked aunt, "YOU ARE BEING FORCED TO ABUSE YOUR NEPHEW BECAUSE OF MAGIC!" 

That did it. Petunia's mouth snapped closed quicker than if Heather had sealed it with a spell. Her eyes bugged out, and she turned to look at Heather aghast. For a split second, Heather worried she was wrong, that Petunia had realized what was happening. Then the woman's eyes started to tear up. 

"What… what did you say?" 

Heather slowly lowered her hands away from her ears, careful to keep her wand from pointing directly at Petunia. "As I said, my name is Heather Potter, and I'm here to speak to you." Heather gestured to the nearby bench, "can we sit?" 

"No." Petunia's green eyes were burning, not with magic as Heather's did, but still with an energy all Petunia's own. "No, you explain what you said right now!" 

Swallowing, Heather inclined her head. So be it. "My mother is-"

"I don't care about your bloody genetics! Tell me about Harry!"

"Miss Dursley," Heather tried to soothe, "please, allow me to explain." Because she needed Petunia to have the background information Kunzite had given her. Heather knew that once someone realized Harry wasn't in his aunt's possession, then Dumbledore or perhaps Snape would look into it. They'd look through Petunia's memories as Heather had done, and she wanted them to see precisely this conversation. Heather wanted them to have her fake background story. Which would work far better than if Heather actually prevented them from reading Petunia; that would just be suspicious.

"Be quick about it!" 

Acting as though Petunia was in control, Heather did precisely that; "my mother is Dorea Potter. My father is Charlus Potter, which makes James Potter my cousin… once removed." Narrowly resisting the urge to flap a dismissive hand, Heather explained, "I just learned I had a family, so I went to look into my nephew and let me say, the circumstances around James and Lily's death are beyond sketchy." Was she using too much language from the future…? Heather never thought she'd have to worry about that, but she bet she was. "I suspect heavily they were setup-"

"Get to the point!" Petunia snarled violence at the edge of her being, "tell me about my nephew!" 

Heather sighed, pretending she was slightly put out by the interruptions, "there's a ward. Its sort of like an invisible bubble of magic around your house. I looked into the ward and found it's… dark, very dark, and very sensitive." Heather groped for a way to explain this to a Muggle. She was far too used to speaking to other warders like Bill, "basically, it twists the emotions of every Muggle who enters the house, forced them to quick anger when it comes to Harry." 

"Remove it!" There was anguish in Petunia's voice, horrified realization in her eyes. The truth was right there. Petunia had physically and emotionally beaten down her nephew, and while it wasn't inherently her fault, she'd still done it. Petunia would forever remember her hand on Harry's skin as she slapped him, forever remember the hateful words spat out of her lips… she'd never forget it. She would have intense PTSD from this, and Heather, unfortunately, suspected that might come across as terror or hatred for magic and, by extension, anything involved with witchcraft. She would likely become distant with Harry, and who could blame her? 

"I can't." 

"What do you meant you can't?" Petunia couldn't focus on Heather. Her eyes were darting around frantically. Her hands were shaking after the emotional upheaval Heather had forced upon her… hopefully better late than never. 

"The man… the man who did this I suspect was involved in Lily and James' death." That was not entirely the truth, Voldemort was the main culprit… but Dumbledore was involved somehow, and so Heather told Petunia that. Hopefully, he wasn't as immersed in this as Heather was beginning to suspect. "He placed this ward, and he's…" she groped for an explanation, "he's politically basically immune to everything. He's downright near a god in the eyes of the public… people won't believe that-"

"It's Dumbledore, isn't it." Petunia interrupted suddenly, "Lily's… that headmaster…" there was something in Petunia's eyes, a memory there that Heather couldn't resist… nudging. It wasn't strictly ethical… but she still did it. Heather silently cast legilimency and dipped into the memory and found flashing memories all connected in Petunia's head-

She was writing a letter to Dumbledore, desiring so badly to be a witch too and go to school with Lily. A brutal denial and Petunia's relationship with Lily suffering because of Dumbledore's words used to manipulate her young mind even from a distance. Petunia recognizing so much later in life that the words were heavy in manipulation. And 'gods it had been so easy' Petunia thought, as Dumbledore told her that Lily was special and that Petunia was ordinary. She shouldn't want for more and-

A memory of Lily desiring a relationship and inviting Petunia to her wedding. To actually liking and getting along with James Potter, 'even Vernon likes him, this is fantastic,' and Petunia sees Dumbledore speaking to James later and suddenly James is pranking Vernon, and it goes south so quickly- and her dress is ruined- and she's never talking to Lily again- and she feels bad, maybe she should-

-Petunia writing a furious letter to Dumbledore as Harry sleeps soundly beside Dudley in the crib. The boy has been crying non-stop since his arrival, but Petunia doesn't expect him to stop. His mother is dead, and his forehead is bleeding, and the doctor can't do anything but give them antibiotics. But its a magical wound and he's still crying, and Dumbledore told her Lily died in a letter-

The man steps through her fireplace after her sixteenth letter, and everything gets… a… bit… fuzzy…

"It's Dumbledore, isn't it?" Petunia said again, and Heather cringed back, creating a border between the memories and the now. 

"Yes," Heather confirmed, rubbing her temple slightly, she really doesn't like what those memories are implicating. "Yes, he gained full control of the Potter vaults minutes after their death despite no one knowing they had even die.” Merlin, it's challenging to refocus, but Heather managed, barely. "Anyway, if I remove the ward he'll know instantly and what do you think he'd do about it? What do you think he'll do to a Muggle woman and a girl who no one knows with the name Potter?" 

Petunia, Heather thought, might have been in Slytherin. Her sharp mind that picked up social cues so quickly, she instantly jumped to the conclusion Heather already had with four times the speed. Their options are obvious. Petunia could move away from the ward, but eventually, Dumbledore would find her. Then, her mind would be at risk, and Harry would likely suffer. If that occurred, Harry's mental state… the boy may just crack from it. 

On the other hand, Petunia could force Heather to remove the ward anyway and then try and hide it from Dumbledore. They could work together in hiding, to grow power and hope the man doesn't locate them and destroy them. But the risk were similar. If they were found, they were screwed.

Or the third option which Heather much hoped Petunia picked.

"You have to take him." Petunia sagged on the spot, dropped back into her seated position as the best option presented itself. "You can't remove the ward, he'd notice too quickly. If we leave it up, we have more time to prepare… but Harry…" If she left the ward up and Harry under it, then the abuse would continue, and neither could allow that. Not to mention, Petunia acknowledged one last crucial detail. Heather had magic, and Petunia did not. Heather could protect Harry in a way that Petunia could not. 

So Harry had to go to Heather, for his emotional and physical well-being.

As it clicked, as the pieces slotted into place, Petunia's lips curled, and her spine straightened. There was the Evans blood Heather thought as she watched it happen. It was the same strength that had Petunia flee the war to protect her family. That caused Lily to fight and die to protect her daughter or son. There was strength in Heather's family, and only half of it came from James.

"You want him." Petunia said a moment later with full certainty that it was the truth, and it was. Heather taking Harry was the most straightforward path and the smartest one, and it was the one Heather preferred. She could, unlike Petunia, protect Harry, especially with the foreknowledge she possessed. On top of that, if Heather had Harry with Petunia's consent, they could keep that fact from Dumbledore for ages. Because no one had ever checked up on Heather except for Figg and no one would if the wards were left alone and she was careful. That, and though Petunia didn't know this, if Dumbledore did find the truth and actually overwhelmed her, then Heather could just leave. She could vanish into another world where Dumbledore could never reach them - once she perfected her spell that was, which was a current priority.

"Yes," Heather had no reason to lie, "it's the best chance Harry has, that we all have." 

They stared each other down as the sound of children filtered behind them. Holly heard Dudley call out to a friend, unaware and clueless about what was happening. She could feel her own magic tingle in anticipation. Felt a brutal December wind cut across where they stood. 

Before her, Petunia weighed her options, debated risks, judged Heather's intentions, and acknowledged what she'd always known deep down. She believed that the wards existed, in that Petunia knew Heather wasn't lying. That, and Petunia accepted that Heather was a Potter, no one could mistake that hair. But her eyes… the color and the shape… that was all Lily. 

Lily.

"I know your magic," Petunia suddenly spoke up from their staredown, "Lily told me about it… if you swear it, you will lose your magic and life if you break your word. I want that." 

"A vow." While she was surprised Petunia knew about that, Heather didn't mind giving one. Though… the wording would have to be specific. "Very well. I will swear not to hurt the Harry Potter of this world." 

"Good." Petunia stepped forward not realizing Heather's sticking charm had been removed, or that it had ages ago. "Swear it." 

"I swear it, upon my magic that I will never intentionally harm the boy in this world known as Harry Potter." Heather's magic surged slightly as the vow settled on her core. She barely noticed it, and the sensation faded a moment later, so it was quickly dismissed. The spell she'd used was an altered version of the unbreakable vow. It didn't require a witness, and the cost was a bit looser if Heather actually broke the promise. Moving forward, should Heather actually try to harm Harry, the vow would tug at her magic. It will give her quite the warning against her actions before she genuinely lost her magic. 

Though, in retrospect, Heather really should have thought about the whole 'Harry is a Horcrux' thing before making that particular vow. All well, too late now. 

Petunia stepped back as a weight slipped away from her shoulders. As she nodded sharply. It was done. Her nephew would go to this girl and thrive, and Petunia could attempt to lose the guilt she'd be carrying for years. "Then take him, take him and keep him alive and safe from that old bastard." 

Heather's lips quirked, "On that note… I actually think you could help with that if you're open to it?" 

Petunia's smirk was blood-thirsty as she nodded. Yes, for making her hurt her nephew - something she process later - Petunia would find her revenge.

* * *

  
"Remember, once you pass the property line, the wards will activate. My spell will protect your mind for a short time, but it is temporary, so collect Harry and bring him out as quickly as possible." Heather gently reminded her aunt as they approached number four. At her comment, Dudley glanced at her, his small pudgy face confused. He'd be introduced to 'aunt Heather' shortly after Heather and Petunia established a general plan for Harry. As far as Dudley knew, Heather was both his and Harry's aunt just as Marge was. Dudley also hadn't been skeptical for long, not when Heather bribed him with a mildly magical toy that would keep him safe if kept on his person. After the gift, Dudley had spent the entire walk back chattering on to Heather, which was beyond surreal.

"I understand." 

Petunia looked at her own house as if it were set to swallow her whole. Petunia's body language screamed hunted but determined as she stepped forward and- tripped on thin air to land flat on her face. Blinking Heather recalled the tripping spell she'd left on the property that she'd honestly forgotten entirely about. Watching her aunt shriek and hit the ground, Heather couldn't quite stifle her laugh. The woman had been so focused on her mission and was beyond shocked at the sudden failure. Oddly, for Heather anyway, she and Dudley got to share in a laugh. The four-year-old, delighted by his mother's drop and Heather equally amused for once, as she shot a perfectly innocent look at Petunia's confusion and embarrassment. 

One must keep to their marauder roots after all.

"R-right…" Petunia smothered her embarrassment as she stood again, "I'll be… right back. Dudders dear, stay with your aunt." 

There was that surreal moment again. Heather felt it brush against her as Dudley responded in a positive to his mother, and Petunia vanished into the house. Left alone with his new 'aunt,' Dudley began to chatter about a girl and the game they played in the park. Heather zoned the words out with the occasional 'oh wow' comment, which appeased the boy. Internally though, she was quickly reassessing what she needed to do moving forward. 

Heather's plans stretched out altered by the fact that she had decided to take in Harry. Her priority continued to be finding her way home, but that was, as far as she knew, a progress that could take years. So beyond that goal, Heather needed smaller ones to attain. First, to set up her condo and get Harry to a discreet and contracted healer. He was four now just like Dudley, so she had half a year to prepare him for Muggle school. That involved introducing him to magic and what exactly he was allowed to talk about. Potentially she could have him meet some magical children for friends like Ron or Neville, as long as she first got a look into them to ensure they hadn't changed too drastically. She also had to finish setting up the condo. Contact Kunzite. Find an elf to work for her to assist with all this. Ensure the goblins properly warded the apartment. Looked into Sirius and the bloody Horcruxes.

"Aunt Heather?" 

"Mhm?" she glanced at Dudley.

"Are you okay?" 

"Yup, just fine. Tell me about-" what was it? "-Elizabeth?"

"Yeah, she was fun! So, we went into the forest and found this-" on he went about some bug he and this 'Elizabeth' found and how they'd brought it to the girls' mother to prank her. Heather listened with half an ear to it in case he asked anything. As she did, she internally shortened her large tasks into small ones. Heather reminded herself that she had years until any significant events occurred. Really, as long as she was careful, she could defeat Voldemort, and handle Dumbledore long before anyone noticed she even existed. 

Then again. With her luck…

The front door to number four opened, and Harry came trotting out. He looked utterly confused and was bundled in a jacket much too big for him. Following behind, Petunia had a pinched look that had Heather assuming the boy hadn't actually owned his own winter jacket and that the one he now wore was actually Petunia's. Harry glanced at Heather and Dudley together. His tiny face gave away the trepidation he was feeling even as Petunia gently nudged him forward and away from the ward pushing against her mind. She carried a rather small bag in her hands. As Heather watched, Petunia's face grew more and more harsh- until she crossed the property line, and her expression cleared. 

Cursing under her breath, Petunia stopped at Heather's side with a grimace. She knew the truth now. Petunia could feel the ward pressing down on her, even with Heather's magic temporarily protecting her mind. It was a brutal thing. The realization that everything she'd ever done to Harry was due to magic and Albus bloody Dumbledore. It made her instinctively want to despise all things associated with witchcraft. Still, at the same time, Petunia worried that emotional response was due to Dumbledore as well. She didn't know, and that was terrifying. 

"Boy-" Petunia shook her head as Harry violently flinched, and Heather's hands twitched. The tone was eerily familiar, but it wasn't 'girl' as she was used to. "Harry," Petunia corrected by sheer force of will. "This is Heather Potter." 

Harry's eyes flew with as looked to the woman who had come to the door earlier. Looked at her curly hair and her green eyes and all but gaped. He hadn't expected when she'd actually come to the door that she'd been related to him. Sure, in the hours since her visit, he'd fantasied about it as he did all other strangers that had any sort of resemblance to him. He'd pictured her coming back and claiming he was her long lost relative. That she'd take him away. That he'd have family that loved him-

"She's your father's cousin… she'll be taking you home with her." Petunia spoke in a clipped tone while her skin crawled from the nearby ward and the knowledge of what it could do. At the same time, Harry's world tilted on its axis. He'd fantasied about exactly this happen but- to have it actually occur-

"You're my… aunt?" he exhaled while Dudley looked between them all in utter confusion. 

"I am." Close enough to one anyway, "and I'd like very much for you to live with me if you'd-"

"YES!" he staggered forward several steps, his entire being focused on Heather. Harry only had eyes for her, so he missed Petunia flinch at his eagerness, or Dudley growing increasingly red in… not quite jealously, but something else that he was too young to name. "I mean… please, I… I'll be good- if you- please-" he shot a look at his aunt Petunia too late. Her face had already smoothed over; she looked indifferent to his childish eyes. 

"Okay," Heather soothed, kneeling in front of him. "That's good. I’ll be happy to have you." 

Behind him, Dudley's face pinched in an upcoming tantrum. Behind him, Petunia set his bag on the ground, nodded to Holly, and with a forced calm collected Dudley to explain some of what Heather would soon have to explain to Harry. Petunia would have to warn Dudley against the very world that Heather and Harry were a part of while trying to balance the fact that he was still special and that they'd see Harry again one day. Hopefully, to form a better relationship. Heather, in the meantime, would have to explain magic, the danger of Dumbledore and Voldemort, and how his aunt really didn't mean to hurt him. 

Neither of them had a clue where to begin. 

"Cou-… would you like to say goodbye to your aunt Petunia Harry? Before we head out?" for food, Heather was starving by then, and she was sure Harry was too. They'd stop somewhere nearby, and she'd explain magic during dinner. Then they could hopefully apparate home.

Harry nodded quickly, heartbreakingly obedient. He turned sharply backing into Heather, his hand sought her out even as he addressed his aunt. A tension in his body relaxed once he had a hand on her knee, once he knew she wasn't going to completely vanish now that he had his back to her. "Goodbye, Aunt Petunia." 

Nudging Dudley into silence, Petunia looked their way eyes shining with unshed tears, "Goodbye, Harry… I… be good for your aunt, alright?" she wanted to embrace him and take back all those pains she'd caused, but she was smart enough to know if she tried it would only make things worse. Because Harry was too young to understand. He… he was an abuse victim, and she was his abuser, and even though she'd been forced to do it did not change that. Gods, she was never going to be okay again now that she knew-

"I will," Harry promised uncertain. He sensed something was wrong but couldn't begin to understand it. So, instead, Harry turned his back on Petunia and looked to Heather with a tentative smile. 

"Alright," Heather offered Harry a hand which he took at an unreal speed, then she stood snatching Harry's bag with a free hand. Tossing it over her shoulder, she nodded to Petunia. She'd contact the woman soon to go through the next part of their plan and set up a more neutral meeting location once Harry was more secure with his position in his new life. Then Heather started down the road at a slow speed so Harry could keep up. 

They trudged forward as small flakes of snow started to fall from the sky. Harry didn't react to them, but Heather still wandlessly cast a mild warming charm at the boy. She knew his clothes were quite ratted and not layered, and she didn't want him to freeze. They walked in silence for some time. Heather kept her eyes forward, trying to remember where they could get food in the area by walking in this particular year. While Harry spent the entire time stealing subtle looks at his new aunt and guardian. 

Eventually, he'd crack Heather knew. But it spoke to his mental state that it took until they were sitting in a little diner to do so. 

It was a louder place, and recalling Moody's words in her past, allowed Heather to cast several silencing spells, so no one would overhear her and Harry. After that, Heather had calmly told Harry he could order anything he wanted and specifically ordered a lighter soup for the boy just in case he couldn't stomach anything solid. Harry had barely asked for anything, and she was unsurprised, it would take a great deal of time for him to ask for anything. It hadn't taken her years as well, and she'd been a teenager. 

"Aunt… Heather?" 

Thirty minutes to find the diner, twenty to order and settle. Fifty minutes until Harry spoke a single word after 'I will,' it was worse than she expected honestly. 

"Yes?" Heather took a non-threatening posture, kept a hand on her chin as she looked at Harry sitting across from her. Kept her other hand on the table but was ready to snatch her wand at a moment's notice. She had Harry now and was beyond paranoid that she'd be attacked at any point now that she did. 

Harry shifted in his seat. He bit his lip. He looked everywhere but at her face as he tried to form the sentence within him. Heather waited patiently, not pushing. He'd talk when he wanted to and not beyond, and she greatly wished to encourage him to talk. Harry struggled for a full five minutes before he finally blurted, "did you know dad?" 

Heather's expression turned sad as she shook her head, "no, he died long before I met him sadly." The plead to elaborate was on Harry's face. He'd already worked to ask his first question, so Heather obliged the silent one. "I was raised an orphan actually, I didn't know for a long time that I even had any family." Here was the thing, Heather didn't know how honest she ought to be with him. Should she tell him the blatant truth? Or should she hedge and give him the fake truth. Heather didn't know. She didn't know if he'd even believe her… Merlin, she didn't know what to do. 

In the end, Harry settled her dilemma; "you wanted family, like me!… right?" his green eyes brightened happily then immediately he grew nervous, worried that he wasn’t allowed to speak like that to her. Heather's expression softened, he was so young. He would learn too much from her about his own life to pile on her own history, she'd tell him the truth later and stick to half-truths for the time being. It would be better for him, she thought. 

"I did, and I found you. I'm happy that I did, now I can share my magic with someone." 

Harry's face instantly scrunched. That wasn’t something he was allowed to talk about and his new aunt had just said it… in public! "…magic?" he whispered the word warily glancing around.

Heather felt her lips twist, she felt positively wicked, like Hagrid introducing her to magic for the first time. With careful, obvious movements, Heather pulled her wand from her pocket, and placed it on the table. Harry’s gaze followed her every motion and his expression showed his blatant confusion at the ‘stick’ she’d just revealed. Heather relished the moment as she calmly said: "Oh yes… didn't you know? The Potter's… have magic." 


	6. Potter Legacy

“Home sweet home!” Heather opened the door and revealed the practically empty apartment. Pausing, she recalled most of her temporary furniture must have transformed back during the day, and she winced. “Well, it's a work in progress.” She explained to Harry. Thankfully for her, though, Harry was beyond excited even if there was nothing in the apartment per-say. Heather looked back at Harry and grinned. Harry’s green eyes were literally glittering, almost like Dumbledore’s bloody twinkle, and it made Heather wonder how anyone thought Harry James Potter had been anything but magical. With the way his eyes glowed with power and excitement, Heather could see at a glimpse there was something other about him. Still, the sheer joy and wonder on Harry’s face more than made up for it, Heather could hardly stop herself from feeling a shared joy Harry was feeling at seeing his brand new home away from the Dursley’s. 

“Go ahead and explore Harry,” Heather told him; as she did, she waved a negligible hand to transfigure a coat hanging on the spot then hung up her transfigured jacket, which she’d have to replace with a real one soon. 

However, as she turned back to Harry, she found he was waiting for her. He hadn’t taken her blanket permission to explore; no, old habits had kicked in. Instead of running off like an excitable little kid, Harry carefully took off his shoes and set them right beside hers. Then he removed the jacket, the one she’d conjured earlier, and hung it nearby hers, only giving the coat-hanger a brief curious look. Then, Harry checked her for permission once more; his eager eyes were brimming with uncertainty, with the hesitation trained into him. Heather offered him a smile and nodded, firmly aware he was looking for non-verbal cues. She was proven correct because, at the nod, Harry turned on his heels and trotted into the apartment. Harry did not run. He didn’t make a sound as he walked and explored. Instead, he snuck around conjured furniture, peaked into drawers, wandered through the kitchen. As he moved, Harry avoided Heather’s room like the plague. 

Heather left him to it; she kept her eyes focused on her own preparations for the night while keeping her ears trained on Harry. Heather collected her journal and updated it. She now had to account for Harry in everything she did, which shifted many of her priorities, though not the main one. Her main goal was still to complete her spell and return home; everything else had changed though. Merlin, she’d have to owl Kunzite too-

Heather heard Harry pause in the hallway near the bedrooms and leaned back slightly to call: “Yours is the first door on the right.” She’d have to contact a healer with a contract, Harry was definitely malnourished, and he likely hadn’t gotten any of his magical or Muggle shots after that Halloween. 

A door opened carefully, and Harry vanished into his room. Heather hadn’t done anything with the second room yet, so she knew it was rather plain - like the rest of the apartment - she hadn’t really expected to be adopting her younger self until she’d done it. Heather had honestly been hoping she wouldn’t need to. So there wasn’t furniture or anything in Harry’s room; thankfully, she’d already warned Harry about that. He knew that Heather would be conjuring furniture for him before bed, and they’d go shopping later for more permanent items. Now though, that she was thinking about it, she’d probably have to alter the apartment for additional rooms… or maybe she ought to find a larger place like one of the Potter properties? She’d need a proper lab for her work and with Harry in the second and only other bedroom… not to mention if Sirius was innocent then-

“Auntie Heather?” 

Heather jerked slightly, unaware that her thoughts had painfully wandered, and she quickly shot a look to her left where Harry was waiting, “yes?” 

He was so very small and so very quiet; Harry was nothing like Teddy. Her god-son had been loved and had always known it; he’d be free to explore, free to be himself. He’d learned with careful tutoring, had friends his own age, had a foot in both worlds, and had always known he’d been adored. But Harry, all he’d known was abuse. All he’d known was the sharp words of his aunt and the fist of his uncle, everything was new to him now, and Heather wasn’t surprised if he floundered. 

She only hoped he adjusted and became stronger for it. 

“C-c….” 

Heather lowered her body, squatted slowly and gave Harry a happy smile. She didn’t push. Instead, Heather patiently waited for Harry to gain the confidence he needed to ask the question he wanted. She knew it would help. It had helped her as a kid when the librarian had waited, and when Molly had given her that endlessly patient look on the platform. “C-can you… you- the magic-” he shuffled on his feet, and Heather’s fond smile grew. 

“You want to see some magic, Harry?” 

“Please!” he bounced on his feet, and Heather near about cooed… was it weird she wanted to coo at what was essentially herself? Eh, best avoid that thought for now. 

Heather had explained loosely to Harry who she was in relation to him, the same story she’d given the Petunia. She’d explained magic and that a bad man, Dumbledore specifically, had hurt his aunt and wanted Harry not to know about magic. Harry had been confused but had listened before she turned to lighter topics. Like how much his parents had adored him. That they hadn’t been drunks. And that he and Heather had magic. She’d explained some of the fantastic things magic could do while loosely touching on the bad things that happened to his Aunt Petunia. But in the restaurant, Heather hadn’t been able to show Harry any magic beyond apparating home. Though she had promised to do exactly that. 

“Of course!” Heather pushed herself up, “how about we set up your room then?” She offered her hand to Harry and was relieved that he took it without hesitation. Heather took that to mean Harry trusted her to lead him. It was a big deal that he’d take her hand. 

Pleased, Heather led Harry to his rooms and then revealed her wand from her upper arm hostler. “Okay! How about we start with the walls, what colour or style would you like?” 

Large green eyes blinked at her; Harry was unfortunately and expectedly lost. Fond Heather happily gave him a few options. Harry didn’t have a clue yet what magic was capable of, so with this, she’d show him that the sky really was the limit: “black? Purple? Red and gold? Or-” she flicked her wand, changing the white paint to follow along with her suggestions, “stars? The forest? Underwater?” With each example, the walls changed colours to match. The sky had glittering stars, the forest with light shining through the trees, underwater with fish and Harry’s eyes grew wider and wider. Heather resisted the urge to smirk; this magic wasn’t something just anyone could do; it was actually a spell designed by Luna. All the things she was showing Harry were paintings Luna had done. Basically, if she wanted to put it into Muggle terms for Harry, Luna was the artist, and these were her paintings… which explained the snorkack in the forest scene. Heather personally had blanket permission to use Luna’s many painting spells, but anyone else would have to pay to have Luna perform this spell on their walls.

Either way, her magic seemed to be overwhelming and delighting Harry at the same time. Eventually, Harry settled on a galaxy like design, swirling nebula’s, comets, and the typical star chart for astronomy danced across Harry’s walls. 

Harry, by then was bouncing on the spot as she designed the bedroom of his dreams. With a secure bed that had tall sides on each side - resembling a type of animal den so he’d feel secure out of his cupboard. A desk designed like the ones at Hogwarts. She added a carpet that copied the Hogwarts style and a night light based on the Patronus charm that Hermione had crafted. It caused a little prongs to dart around the room, making the entire room feel warm and, above all, safe. 

“This is brilliant!” Harry enthused as he ran his fingers across the soft fabric of his blankets. He didn’t realize how impossible it was, though, because Heather appeared barely phased even though she was exhausted. She was because Heather had made an extra point to ensure everything she conjured that afternoon was permanent. People… even magical people didn’t just do that. He had no idea, wouldn’t either, because Heather was far from the type to notice how powerful she truly was. Heather had never thought about how easy wandless magic came to her or that half the magic she did was truly beyond unreal to everyone else she knew. 

“I’m so glad you like it.” Heather enthused as she noticed Harry flagging slightly. From Petunia’s words, Harry had been awake for a rather long time, and considering everything new, well, she wasn’t surprised he was tired now. He’d had quite the day. “Now, would you like to try it? Because I think it’s time for bed.” 

“Okay, Auntie Heather.” 

Another difference, Teddy had always hated bedtime unless she told him a story. But Harry didn’t even begin to push her suggestion. No matter, he probably would one day when he felt more comfortable with her.

Heather conjured Harry some pyjamas, and they rushed through a nighttime schedule because it had gotten quite late - she’d need more supplies for that. Before Harry settled into his brand new bed, Heather calmly sat at the end of his bed and flicked her wand. “Now, perhaps a bedtime story,” she’d start with one she’d know he’d love because Teddy had loved it just as much, “There once was a wolf named… Moony.” 

Harry fell asleep quickly; he was exhausted by the excitement and changes of the day. As a result, Heather didn’t get too far into the story, which Teddy had loved above all others. She also did her best not to feel too depressed about that because she remembered telling it to Teddy countless times in the past, and she’d- she couldn’t see him- Heather bit her lip and brushed Harry’s hair from his forehead. No, she’d return to him one day, she would. Just… don’t think on it, she’d return to them soon. 

Heather suddenly paused. She frowned as she brushed the hair from Harry’s forehead and blinked in surprise; Harry’s scar was different from hers. Heather had always possessed a rune, specifically a swolio rune for protection. It was the staple of her title, the lightning mark of the girl-who-lived… but Harry didn’t have it. Harry’s forehead was scared by what seemed to be real lightning. Like cracking electricity in the night sky, it raced across his forehead to his brow. Heather reached for his forehead and traced the mark with her hand. 

Heather brushed her fingers along the mark and frowned deeper. It wasn’t raised either. Heather’s had always been bright red; it had acted all her life like she’d just received it, never healing until after Voldemort’s defeat. Harry’s was a scar, an actual scar that had long since healed. 

“Why is it different?” she whispered as her mini patroni flew past her head. Was… was Harry not a Horcrux? Merlin, how could she even begin to test for that, parseltongue? Would that actually do anything? What if he just had parseltongue in this life, or it wasn’t passed on regardless? “Bloody-hell.” 

She pulled back entirely and placed her head in her hand to grip her chin. Even if Harry was a Horcrux, that wasn’t something she couldn’t just fix, and she wasn’t about to let Harry die for this world. He was a kid, barely five! Voldemort was absolutely not killing this kid, and he was not going to be walking to his death, not even to save the world.

Clicking her tongue at how quickly she’d gotten attached. Heather left the bed and crept out of the room. She left the door cracked as her mini Patronus lazily circled the room to guard Harry’s sleep and moved quickly back to her journal. 

What had she done? Barely two days into this world, and she’d already rocked it to the foundations, she’d stolen Harry Potter the key to the upcoming war and basically set herself as a direct enemy to Albus Dumbledore. Now she was planning on keeping Harry alive despite the potential Horcrux, which would have immediate, lasting problems to the world and the future and yet… she didn’t even care. 

That was the problem with being a gray witch, bloody hell.

No one in her home world had realized what she was. No one had known she had been a Horcrux, the fact had gone overlooked. Dumbledore had assumed she had a relationship to Salazar slytherin, while everyone else assumed her ‘connection’ was due to Voldemort marking her with his magic. No one had imagined she was a Horcrux until she and Dumbledore had gotten their hands on Slughorn and even then they’d immediately started to plan for it; Hermione and Snape had designed a ritual to seal Voldemort so Heather didn’t need to die. 

However, the ritual went to waste when Heather had stepped between Fred and Voldemort’s killing curse and-

_White-_

_Mom-_

_“Go back darling-”_

_“They need you-”_

Heather gripped her head and sank onto her conjured couch. She breathed through the memories of that place, of the after which she never should have touched. She shook it off as firmly as she could, as she did every time she thought of that moment and of that place. 

Exhaling Heather waved a hand and summoned the large collection of papers Kunite had handed to her to look over and her journal.

There was no point on worrying about Harry’s state yet. Not until she had a snake or a real way to tell what he was. Not until Voldemort was an active problem and in that case she could just perform the ritual that Hermione and Snape had designed… not that she knew how it worked. No, she’d have to rebuild it or contact them- which returned her back to finding a way home. 

It would be fine. 

She had to prioritize. Her accounts, her spell, Harry’s mental health, then the people of this world. 

One thing at a time. 

* * *

Diary, ring, locket, cup, diadem, snake… Heather. 

Diary, ring, locket, cup, diadem, snake, Harry? 

No. Heather tapped her nails along the small living room table with an unhappy gush of breath. This world did not follow the same rules as her own, and that was becoming more clear as time progressed. Merlin above she’d barely been here a week, and already she’d faced so many changes. Dumbledore, the man who taught her and loved her, her grandfather was stealing from Harry in this world. Thresh was dead, and Kunzite was clearly struggling to catch up. Petunia and Vernon were not abusive by choice and were under compulsions. Now Harry was maybe not a Horcrux - no, she was assuming that fact from the scar, he still could be. She’d need to find out for certain if he was or not… somehow. 

Heather made an aggravated noise and smacked her palm into her forehead. 

She couldn’t trust anything here; at this rate, Sirius could actually be the one who betrayed her parents, and Pettigrew was actually dead. Heck, Remus might not be a werewolf, and Snape could be a saint and good teacher. Nothing was positive, nothing was sure, and she had to navigate this place while clueless. Heather had no advantages and didn’t know the future because it wasn't set in this place. 

The butterfly effect was clearly very real and very powerful. 

She’d have to be ready to adjust on a moment; she’d also have to take allies where she could get them. Merlin, she could even work with Lestrange in this place if she was unlucky. Her priority would have to be Harry and herself. She’d have to protect them both and ensure she had an escape plan. An escape plan that would lead to her homeworld, where she knew the rules, and she had a loyal and loving family. 

Heather did her best not to miss them, not miss Molly’s cooking and Hermione and Ron’s fighting, or the twins' antics, or Bill and Fluer’s letters, or… she tried not to miss them. 

“Auntie Heather?” 

“Mhm?” She lifted her head from her collection of newspapers to find Harry dressed and ready to go. He was wearing more conjured clothing, a jumper and a pair of jeans that wouldn’t last all that long. In the end, that was their purpose for that day… extensive shopping to gain them both a wardrobe, fill the kitchen, and replace the transfigured furniture.

“Are you… alright?” Harry asked, trotting forward to stare at the mess at the table. Harry, well, he’d fallen asleep with Heather awake, and he’d woken up at the crack of dawn, and Heather had once more been awake. In the morning though, Heather had been surrounded by the newspapers, endlessly newspapers that just kept coming and- were they moving? “Are these magical?” he followed up as Heather set the one she was reading to the side. 

“Yes, it’s the Prophet and the Quibbler, I asked Kunzite…” Heather paused at Harry’s blank look and elaborated, “he’s a goblin, our bank manager. I asked him to find me copies of the paper as far back as he could. Though I didn’t expect him to deliver so quickly.” Heather had been attacked by an owl half-way through the night; the barn owl had been carrying a shrunken package of newspapers. It allowed her to start looking into the changes of this world to her own. Though so far, she was having trouble placing actual differences. 

Heather had been working on the papers most of the morning and had only just reached the war. Heather wasn’t sure what she was looking for with the papers that far back; it wasn’t like she’d been born that early and wouldn’t notice differences that plainly either. Still, as Harry came in, Heather smoothly tucked the paper about Lily and James’ death under the collection. Harry didn’t need to see their broken bodies plastered across prophet, no more than she did. Honestly, Heather was a bit unfathoming on how anyone had gotten pictures of that particular scene. 

“Goblins are real?” Harry perked up as Heather moved to grab her own conjured coat. He seemed to have relaxed a bit now that he’d woken up, and everything remained real. He had honestly expected the whole night to be a dream, that it wasn’t had been endlessly relieving. 

Heather hummed a confirmation as she doubled checked her budget for this trip. She’d have to stick mostly to the basics or cheaper stores when it came to shopping for the time being. Because of Dumbledore, her budget was quite a bit smaller than it should be, and Heather had no desire to splurge if she could not refill the accounts.

“They are; you’ll meet Kunzite soon, I expect. I have… quite a few meetings with him over the next few weeks.” Realistically she likely should have gotten the meetings done before grabbing Harry, but who knew how complicated that would have gotten. No, it was better this way, even if Harry was going to be bored out of his mind during those seemingly endlessly meetings. 

Heather would be going over the accounts, finding the portkey’s to the sanctuary, checking on the destroyed properties and countless other things. Not to mention she had to figure out how to meet with Sirius in Azkaban without giving herself out too soon. To do that, Heather would have to contact the ministry… but before that, she’d have to fake or retake her Newt’s. Heather would also have to register her wand, which existed twice, so she’d have to speak to Olivander and get both copies. She’d also have to do something about the ministry because, legally speaking, she could reclaim her seat at the wizengamot if she wanted to. Merlin above, she had so much to do. “I will tell you when you meet him, be exceedingly polite and prompt. Goblin’s don’t like a lot of double-talk.”

“Double… talk?” Harry asked as Heather moved toward the door with him. 

“Like how your aunt Petunia would talk about the neighbours… behind their back.”

“Oh.” He nodded, even though he didn’t really understand, “okay.”

Heather stepped out of the door with Harry a step behind her and locked it even though the muggle-key would not keep out anyone magical. The key was more for Muggle’s than magical’s anyway, that and it was a habit to lock the door behind her. 

That done, Heather offered her hand to Harry, “ready?” 

“I’m ready.” He took it softly, prepared this time for what magical travel felt like. Harry’s new aunt had warned him it would be uncomfortable. Still, he’d underestimated it the first time; now, he was ready. He could handle it. He didn’t complain when his Aunt Heather told him they were going shopping, though he was secretly dreading it. Harry knew what it was like when Aunt Petunia took him shopping and hoped going with Aunt Heather would be different. If only because she was utterly different from any other adult he’d ever met already, so he had hope.

“Three. Two. One.” 

The world squeezed around Harry for the second time, and a moment later, they landed in an alleyway in the middle of London. Harry choked a bit as his aunt straightened up and peered around the nearby corner. She watched Muggles pass, not one of them noticing the two people suddenly appearing in the alley. They didn’t even notice the loud crack of sound, and Harry stared at them in wonder. How had they, and he missed it. “Merlin! Almost forgot! Harry, come here a minute.” Heather suddenly exclaimed, and Harry obediently turned toward his aunt.

Harry stepped forward and allowed his aunt to tap his head with her wand. His entire head felt tingly for a moment before it ended, and he gave Heather a perplexed expression. She, thankfully, wasn’t like Petunia or Vernon and explained without trouble. “just a spell to protect your identity, you have brown hair now, and I hid your scar.” 

“Oh.” He tilted his head to see the brown locks; he liked that Heather kept answering his questions; no one else had done that. “why?” 

Heather made a face as she took his hand once more and led him across the nearby street toward the mall. She glanced to the sides watching for cars, and more dangerously: people with magic. As she did, she loosely explained: “Well, you are unfortunately a public figure in the magical world.”

“’ Cus of what mom did.” He figured knowingly. Heather had explained that the day before. 

Heather was doing her best to remain honest with Harry, but he was still quite young, so she tried not to make the facts too graphic. As such, when he’d mentioned his parent's car-accident, she’d explained how much Lily loved him and how she’d managed to defeat Voldemort to protect him. He’d focused more on the fact that she loved him, so it went mostly well. 

Heather, however, knew she’d have to train him to handle the public and to use public opinion to his advantage. She’d been victim to their whims for too much of her childhood to allow Harry to have the same problem.

“Exactly so, but the public is strange, so they think it was you.”

“They're weird!” he giggled.

“Very.” Heather moved to a nearby shopping center and nodded slightly; clothing would be first. She’d splurge on that to ensure Harry had no trouble with the cold, that and Muggle clothing was cheaper than Magical. There were plenty of reasons for that, but most focused on the mass-quantities in the Muggle worlds. Machines did the work for Muggles, and they created clothing in massive amounts. While in the magical world, each robe was magically sewn together and infused with spells. This meant the costs were vastly different.

Regardless Heather found herself a cart and nudged Harry to the clothing section. She swiftly and effortlessly grabbed items in his size and tossed them into her cart. Heather periodically asked Harry for colour choices and preferred. Still, as Heather had secretly expected, Harry had no idea what to do with the choices. She made a habit of keeping his options simple to start with while also grabbing anything he stared at for too long. The first had been a rather colourful set of rain-boots which she quickly had him try on.

“How do they feel?” she asked, getting Harry to try on a few sizes. 

“It’s… small.” 

“Hmm.” Heather pressed her fingers to his boots and felt where his toes were. He had a bit of give to grow into them, but considering Dudley’s cast-offs were four times the size, he would likely find everything that fit him too big. “It will be easier to walk in these, but if you prefer, I will get you bigger ones. But these fit you.” 

“Cus’ they’re not Dudley’s?” Harry asked, wiggling his toes in the tight boots.

“Exactly.” 

Harry rubbed his nose and shrugged, “I’ll get used to it.” And so the boots went into the cart, and they moved on. Following that, Harry picked out a few graphic t-shirts with random characters on it and a backpack he’d fallen in love with on sight with a cartoon Merlin drawn across it. Which reminded Heather unhappily that she’d have to look into primary school for Harry as well; he was old enough, so he should definitely be attending. Perhaps Heather could find the one Hermione went to and set them up as friends early on? Or she could contact a private tutor… but no, Harry would be better off with a foot in both worlds like Teddy had. So a Muggle school it would have to be. 

Still musing about her newest problem, Heather aimed them to the adult section. There Heather, faster than she’d done for Harry, grabbed half a dozen things and tossed them into the cart. Harry stared in almost awe as Heather rushed through sizes, cast aside things without pockets, and generally rushed through the area before heading to the toy section. 

“Go find something you want,” she told him when they arrived, “one toy and I’ll buy it for you. Anyone you want.” 

Harry’s eyes went wide; he shot a look at the numerous options, back to her, then back to the toys. “Really?” 

“Really. Go ahead, Harry. Pick one, anyone.” With that, Harry was off like a shot down the line of toys. Heather breathed a sigh of relief. Yes, Harry had been abused, but he was a resilient little kid, and he was quickly flourishing under the attention she was giving him. Oh, there would undoubtedly be issues later, and he’d push every boundary when he grew genuinely comfortable. But for now, things were fine.

Regardless, as Harry went about selecting his choice, Heather tossed some more random toys into the cart, things she knew Teddy had enjoyed playing with at Harry’s age. She also kept in mind that in this world, Christmas was coming, so she’d make sure Harry had gifts even if she was pushing it a bit on her budget. 

“Auntie Heather?” 

“Mhm?” she lowered a lego set back to the shelf and turned toward Harry, who was holding something behind his back. “Yes?” she asked again when he hesitated. 

“Is…. Is this okay?” he pulled the thing from behind him, and Heather- her heart broke when she realized what it was. It was a stuffed wolf. “It… it’s like Moony, right?” 

Merlin above, this kid. He’d taken her story from the previous night had run with it. He’d found a stuffed wolf that looked almost identical to the real werewolf; how had he even managed that? Accidental magic? Merlin, was Harry trying to make her cry in the middle of a store? “Yeah, Harry, that’s perfect… did they have a deer and dog too?” 

“A deer and dog?” he tilted his head, confused as she pushed the cart toward the stuffed animal area.

“It’s the next part of the story,” she explained gently, “Moony found some very good friends, a chaotic dog named Padfoot and a large kind deer named Prong’s.” She had to add them to the cart if there was, she just had to. 

“There was a doggie…” he blinked up at her, “but you said one toy…” he clutched his wolf closer to his body as it clicked that she really was going to get it for him. It wasn’t a trick. It was real.

“I think… in this case, it’s okay.” Heather grinned delightedly, “Moony needs his friends, doesn’t he?” 

And Harry, he just beamed. A smile that grew when Heather, without hesitation, added the dog and a deer to the cart. A smile that did not fade as they finished their shopping. As she shrunk everything except for the stuffed Moony and they headed to lunch. Followed by the furniture store. Then groceries. Then dinner, and home.

By that point, Harry was exhausted and had almost immediately flopped onto the couch with Moony cuddled in his arms the moment they got home. Heather had waited to unshrink the many bags before she’d joined him and sighed at the mess in their apartment. Heather couldn’t even see the floor anymore, and gods, she had so much work to do. That and Heather had come to realize she really couldn’t take Harry to a lot of what she was planning. Not if Heather wanted to keep Harry’s presence under wraps properly. She couldn’t afford to be under Dumbledore’s attention too early, not if he was even remotely as stubborn as in her homeworld. That and the poor kid would be beyond bored with all the crap she had to do. 

She sighed. Heather wasn’t going to lie… she really wished she had an elf. 

Heather needed a better plan than what she was running with, and she needed, Merlin forgive her, help. As a result, she’d take and pay an elf at that point, but Winky was with the Crouch’s, Dobby was with the Malfoy’s, and Heather was relatively sure Sirius’ grandfather was still alive and in possession of Kreacher. While otherwise, she had no bloody clue had to get an elf otherwise. 

“Auntie Heather… mm’tired.” 

“Me too, kid,” Heather agreed with her eyes closed, she was glad she’d stopped for pepper-up potions before grabbing Harry, but it did mean Heather hadn’t actually slept since she’d grabbed him. Most of her night had been spent on her spell and on the newspapers.

“Are we going to the magic world today?” 

“I think no.” Heather sighed, “maybe tomorrow. That alright?”

“Okay…” Harry burrowed into the couch further when they both heard a screech. Heather groaned loudly as Harry sat up wide-eyed as a full-sized barn owl flew in from a side window and landed on the table. It sent papers scattering, and Heather gave a whining noise as she spotted the Gringott’s symbol on its letter. “It’s an owl! Auntie Heather! An owl!”

“Yeah,” Heather rolled to the side and accepted the letter, “wait here so I can respond,” she requested of the bird before sitting back down and opening the seal. While she did, she explained to Harry, “owls are how we communicate; there’s no phones in the magical world. We send letters instead… we’ll need to buy one tomorrow.” There would be no Hedwig, maybe a more common owl instead until she was available? If she ever was. “You can ask him if he’ll let you pet him; they’re very intelligent,” Heather added.

Harry didn’t waste a moment; he sat up quickly and scooted toward the bird with a request. He was fascinated by the animal even as Heather’s comment echoed in his ears. Because… she said they’d buy one, that meant… they’d have a pet?! A real pet? 

Heather scanned the contents and heaved a sigh. Kunzite had been busy, and he clearly hadn’t slept either. The goblin was furiously cleaning out her accounts and getting a grip on her fiances. He’d managed to find out what happened to her properties; miraculously, one might be fixable to live in, to her relief. As well as commissioning a portkey so she could visit her father’s sanctuary, and had written a letter to her grand-aunts gem mine and magic jewelry company. Kunzite had also started looking into her great-uncle's potion company. He also was requesting a meeting for the next morning, at basically the crack of dawn. 

Heather heaved a sigh and grabbed a nearby paper. She wrote a quick response that she’d be there with Harry and hoped that did not cause any future complications. 

That done, she forced herself up. 

She had things to put away. Rest would have to wait.

* * *

  
Heather apparated them directly to the apparition point near the bank. Harry, holding her hand, was all but vibrating out of his skin in excitement to see the magical world for the first time. Though Heather wished they could actually spend some more time in the area. As it was, they’d slept in, so they had to go to Gringott’s first and had no time to spend browsing. Heather admittedly thought it was probably for the best. Her glamours were good, but it would be disastrous if someone recognized Harry this early.

As such, Heather nearly had to apologetically drag Harry along toward Gringott’s. The kid was trying to look at everything and anything in pure awe; he asked half a million questions as he did. Each one Heather answered patiently as she rushed them to their goal.

“Brooms! You really fly on brooms?” Harry, with bright blond hair and brown eyes, gasped seeing the shop. Heather, matching him, cracked a smile; she was pleased that he had so easily picked out that particular store. It had been the first she’d noted the first time she’d visited Gringott’s as well.

“We fly on brooms,” she corrected, “I’ll have to teach you with one of the children’s brooms. I expect you’ll be a natural; it runs in our blood.” The child-size brooms were expensive due to all the security charms placed on them, but it was well worth the price to Heather. Anything to be in the air, and anything to share her great love with Harry. 

“It does?” Harry snapped his head away from the store to stare at her as Gringott’s came into sight.

Heather hummed a confirmation, “your dad played chaser in the Hogwarts team, and your mum, I was told, used to play beater in pick-up games.” She grinned over her shoulder at him, “I play seeker when I have the time,” she paused and shook her head, “anyway, I’ll teach you all about it; maybe we can even go see a game or two.” When life calmed down, which may be a long time coming. Perhaps during the summer for his birthday… when was the next cup? She’d lost track due to the time-travel. Merlin, she’d have to make a Harpies fan of Harry too while she was at it; Ginny’s future team was obviously the best one.

They reached the stairs and ascended them. Heather nodded to the guards while Harry gaped at seeing the strange creatures for the first time. They were all shades of green, were as tall as Harry was and had gnarled fingers. Harry stared at them, and they stared back, almost daring him to comment, Harry dared not. Aunt Heather told him the creatures were very smart, and considering they ran a bank, he wasn’t surprised by that. Numbers were hard.

Heather led Harry inside Gringott’s and didn’t bother with a teller while he was gaping. She moved instead to a nearby guard because she had an appointment. They’d take her and Harry directly to Kunzite’s office. 

“So cool.” Harry stage-whispered as the guard started down the hallways. A different hallway than Heather had been taken to last time, which was expected, because why could Gringotts ever be simple? Kunzite’s office could be reached with multiple paths, but it still remained close to the front due to his position and her name. So the guard took them on a mild walk-about to reach Kunzite’s office, where they were immediately given entrance and offered drinks.

Heather accepted one, and Harry followed her lead while offering a cheery, “thanks, mister goblin!” to the kid who had brought them the drink. Heather shot him a fond look for that, pleased that his kindness was still very much intact.

“Right on time.” Kunzite stated simply when they walked in, “and you brought young master Potter, greetings.”

“Hi!” with his free hand, Harry waved energetically, and an indulgent Kunzite waved back curiously, comparing the bright Harry with the subdued Heather. They were the same person, but age revealed significant differences between them. 

Kunzite was admittedly pleased to see the child; this was the boy who would have become head of his family without Heather’s time-travelling mess. He was who would undoubtedly replace her when she eventually moved on. Kunzite wanted a measure of the child; he wasn’t going to lie. Not when he and the boy would spend a great many years working together, just as he would Heather. So far, Kunzite was content, Heather had a good head, and he knew she could teach her sprog as Thresh had taught him. 

Shaking himself off, Kunzite offered a chair to Harry and Heather both. He noted the boy looking at everything he could. At the same time, Heather focused on the extensive collection of papers on his desk. She got to business while the child remained that, a curious and yet bored child at the bank.

“Shall we begin?” Kunzite asked, and Heather blanched as he pushed the first set of papers her way. Kunzite's desk was littered in paperwork, all of which she’d have to look over or that he’d already arranged. He had permits, audits scheduled, he had hired several assistants to help him with it all. The kids of his clan had been eager to get the experience in, even if some of them had ended up the ‘drink sprog,’ set to attend his daily needs.

“I need an assistant,” Heather whined when she dropped a few papers and was forced to summon them back. 

“I’ll make a note to set up interviews.” Kunzite cackled a bit at her expense since he did not have that problem. Heather stuck her tongue out at him before finally finding what she needed for her first meeting. 

Kunzite had set up a meeting with the ‘Moony’ forest preserve. The preserve had been James' pet-project when he turned sixteen and had been expected to start taking on responsibilities as Lord Potter. James had elected to buy and run a magical preserve, which also ran as an area to grow rare potion ingredients. James also, in Heather’s homeworld, had a werewolf pack running and living on the land. They had moved there during the war; incidentally, Remus had set that part up.

In this world, the forest manager, chosen by her father, had unfortunately died shortly before her parents. James had not been able to find a replacement because he’d been in hiding. Which was different from her homeworld; in hers, the man never died. As far as Kunzite had found, the reserve had made it work during the war. A replacement had been found from the records shortly after that, and the incoming funds had abruptly dropped in numbers… which was mildly suspicious. 

It was suspicious in general, primarily since the reserve relied mostly on donations. Considering it was a ‘Potter’ reserve, they ought to have no trouble with that. Heather, in the end, would be visiting the forest to see what had happened and to fix it… but Merlin Heather wished Draco was with her to do that. She was already overwhelmed by this chaos. 

“You have the portkey?” Heather eventually asked.

“It’s already prepared,” Kunzite answered, having moved onto his own work while Heather was reading. At the same time, Harry had gotten up. He was wandering the room to inspect the various magical items in the office with Kunzite’s permission. Seeing he was fine, Heather turned back to her work to her next bit of reading.

The biggest money makers had been Fleamont and Euphemia Potter; her direct grandfather and grandmother had worked together to build the Potter name relatively high. Fleamont’s wife Euphemia had actually been a healer who had invented several new techniques in her free time. She’d been one of the members responsible for the preventive measures against Dragon Pox; she had ensured it was no longer a threat in their time. Unfortunately, it required a ‘shot’ or rather than a curative potion, her work was a preemptive measure. The shot could not be given to someone who already suffered from the disease, and Euphemia had died by the very illness she’d worked against. 

Merlin. Harry probably hadn’t had that shot had he- bloody hell, that would just be sad. A Potter dying from a disease their ancestors had worked to cure. 

Making a note, Heather shifted her thoughts to Fleamont. After Euphemia’s untimely death, Fleamont Potter had died of a broken heart following his wife. But before his end, he had run a potion company. Heather was relieved to see Fleamont’s work mostly untouched by Dumbledore’s hands as it had been in her homeworld. She suspected this was because Fleamont’s company ran worldwide like Euphemia’s potions. It meant the company was still thriving outside Britain and had gone untouched by Dumbledore, whom many understood should have no reason to touch the Potter name and the company. He had still tried, though. He’d pushed to the point that Kunzite had found unread, furiously written letters directed at Dumbledore. Managers worldwide told him off and said they would be waiting for a Potter to change the company, not a Dumbledore. 

Heather was relieved to see that. It meant now that Dumbledore’s fingers had been pulled from the accounts they gold would still build. Hn, she would likely have to give most of those people raises for that. She’d have to write them back soon and introduce herself. Yeah, she really needed an assistant… or six.

“Okay.” She moved the pile to the side and swapped to Charlus Potter’s work. Charlus Potter had focused more on controlling shares in any company that did well. The whole process went a bit over her head, but from what Heather understood, some had gone under, while others were doing great. From what she understood, she had no real say in what happened with most of them and would have to do actual research to deal with all… that. She set it to the side.

Finally, Heather picked up what she had on Dorea Potter; Charlus’ wife had partnered with a dwarven gem mine, which she used for her protective jewelry company. The necklaces, rings, and the like were enchanted and sold at high prices to any who could pay them. But from Heather’s research in her old world, Euphemia had drastically dropped the prices during Voldemort’s war. From what she was reading, Dorea had done the same in this one. However, suspiciously, the mine Dorea traded with had gone silent after James and Lily’s death… another thing to look into. Mainly because that had not happened in her homeworld. 

In the end, Heather learned that most of the control Dumbledore had could be put on James’ moronic Gryffindor shoulders. James had, unlike their relatives, gotten much time to progress their family before he’d fought in a war and died. He’d been an auror while alive and had left much of the work to Thresh. The signs of that were clear in Heather’s paperwork. It was James' unfortunately stupid choice that had given Dumbledore too much leeway in their family finances. 

Heather sighed as she read on; it seemed her own contribution to the family would have to wait in this case. It was a tradition for a Potter to add something to their name, and Heather had not skimped in her own world. She was, as expected, a spell-crafter. Her chosen career had resulted in her time and world travel. Still, she’d also created dozens of other spells in her boredom. Spells that she could reintroduce and add to her name eventually, but only after she got a handle on everything else in this world. 

“Alright,” she set the pile to the side, “I’ll need copies of all this.” 

“Already done.” Kunzite reached to the side and grabbed a small bag, which he slid over to her, “they’ve been shrunken for your convenience.”

“Brilliant. Thank you, Kunzite.”

“Naturally,” he finally looked up from his work, sensing she was ready to move on, “Lady Potter, are you ready to begin?” 

“Feel free to call me Heather, you know.” Kunzite blinked at her, and she rolled her eyes again, “yes, Kunzite, we’re ready.” She grinned at Harry, who perked and rushed back to her side now that she was done reading, “it’s time for an adventure around the country.” 

Harry bounced slightly, eager to start seeing everything. This was his family, they were going to see the sanctuary his dad had designed, and he couldn’t wait. “Yay!” he said with barely contained eagerness.

“Indeed… yay.” Kunzite deadpanned and caused Harry to blush bright red. “First things first, our appointment at the ‘Moony’ forest preserve. Please touch the key, and I will activate it.” He pulled out a rather elegant looking key and held it out to the two of them. Harry didn’t hesitate; Heather had already explained what a portkey was and what they’d be doing that day just as she’d explained how it would feel that morning. They both reached forward, grabbing it at the same time. However, Heather had to lean down quite a bit to manage, considering Kunzite and Harry were basically the same height, and she was decidedly not.

“And activate.” 

And away they went. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The sheer amount of times I wrote Holly instead of Heather and correct it- *Facepalm* I choose Heather purely because I didn't want Holly's name to be too close to Harry's in this one but the habit of writing Holly for my other fics is murdering me!

**Author's Note:**

> Okay, I wrote this for my Nanowrimo two years ago and never edited it so it was never posted. Considering my muse has died an unfortunate death recently I thought a brief distraction would help so I could get back to my other fics (100% I will continue/finish them... I actually have chapters written for all of them - including Sleeping Arrangments - but I'm not happy with them so they haven't been posted yet.)
> 
> Otherwise, this fic is a bit of pet-project because it has a few spin-offs written where the alternate world isn't inherently the Harry Potter world, and it's also the slow burn from HELL. Hope you like that <3\. 
> 
> For warnings, the tags I've given are for the first and main world Heather is going to spend her time in. Other worlds will appear and in those realities, the tags will change. From a dark!Harry dating actual Voldemort, a canon!Harry with only minor differences to his story, to a fem!Harry whose parents are alive. 
> 
> If you specifically want to see something in one of these worlds, gimme a shout and I'll try to incorporate it. Because the worlds are endless and I have PLANS!


End file.
